


Zone of Trulips

by Ludella



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Numbness, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki AU, John falls in love with a sexy dwarf and coughs flowers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 74,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: John is a freshly retired man with no ambitions, hobbies, desires, or... anything. To keep himself busy, he takes up a job at what should be a quiet, easy-going flower shop only to meet Merle Highchurch and send that whole 'calm retirement' shtick in the fucking garbage.He now has his hands full of loud coworkers determined to befriend him, battling wits with his boss who is his opposite in every way, and right, at some point, he starts coughing up flowers.An AU in which John works at a flower shop and contracts Hanahaki, a 'curse' in which the victim expels flower petals as a result of unrequited love.





	1. Prologue - Retirement

**Author's Note:**

> someone on tumblr once said they were happy john was an old man so people wouldn't ship them and they'd have to see fic of the hunger
> 
> guess what. these old dudes are gonna get in love even HARDER now.
> 
> anyways, sorry that this is only a prologue. I have outlines written beforehand, so I hope it won't be too long before actual chapters came out. This will be bordering on slow burn.

His coworker a few months ago had stormed out of the office, yelling about unfair wages and what assholes management were. Somebody told him it was nothing compared to the scene someone else made a while before that, ruining their entire desk before making a grand exit.

Another coworker he’d had gave her two weeks and ended with a very kind party thrown by everyone on their floor (including himself, though all he did was bring disposable plates and cups). Someone even thought to make a banner with personalized messages and brought the woman gifts, wishing her well on her way in the future.

When John decided to quit his job, neither experience sat too well with him. He didn’t expect either, nor did he have any reason to; he never hated his work or the people there, and he definitely wasn’t kindly enough with his coworkers for it to be an event. He was simply… indifferent, as he was to most things. Like clockwork, he returned to work on his final day to no kind messages besides a small vase of flowers on his desk (gratuity from his boss) and the occasional farewell from a few coworkers who had noticed them.

It wasn’t entirely eventful, and John couldn’t decide if he preferred it that way or not. He wasn’t quite familiar with the concept.

‘Go to school and make friends so you won’t be lonely.’

So he had. All through grade school, high school, college, John was never quite alone. He surrounded him with just enough people to be considered normal and played the song and dance of friendships as well as anybody else. Albeit he could hardly remember the names of anybody he had been friends with now, nor did they matter beyond simple niceties. He had still been lonely.

‘Get a well paying career so you can be happy.’

So he did. By no means did he leave his office because it didn’t pay well enough--no, he was doing just fine financially. At the whims of others, he bought a nice house for himself thinking it was just another stepping stone to being happy. It served him well for many years now, decades even without changing anything inside or another living soul stepping past the threshold. With everything people salivated and worked themselves to death over, he still felt like there was something more he was missing.

To find it, he took an early retirement. He had been working at the same company for over thirty years, now in his mid-50’s and sitting on enough savings and social security funds for two people. When asked about it, a young coworker he couldn’t remember the name of expressed burning envy for his situation, single, rich, and still young enough to use the money he’d saved. Everything was set up perfectly; world travel, cars, collectibles, expensive hobbies… and he tried them.

Oh, he tried them.

Five months into his golden retirement, John returned to his old house with nothing to show for his time except for a few expensive paper weights and a couple more wrinkles. 

It turns out the world is the same wherever you are if you go about it with the same mindset.

He threw his keys on the foyer table as he entered his home, bringing in his bags along behind him as he surveyed his home. Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed since he left a month ago for another trip and found his life just as stale as before. There was nobody to welcome him home, not even a pet to greet him, and just like that, his life returned to its hideous normalcy and snail pace as if he had never left.

It was something of an inescapable nightmare, never chasing, but always crawling. One that sunk into the skin through your pores rather than claw.

John’s eye absently caught on the vase of now long wilted flowers on his kitchen counter, laziness preventing him from cleaning them out. They had been the first object brought into his house from another person and their place in his home had been a puzzle ever since. He strolled over towards the grey stalks and observed the small card wedged between a brittle stalk and the vase itself.

_ ‘Thank you for 30+ years, and good luck from all of us!’ _

If anything, it was a nice thought, he supposed.

Part of him could recognize the privileges he had over many others at this point in time, swimming in more money and time than he knew what to do with. If he passed, there wouldn’t even be anyone for it to go to either; he could disappear entirely and no one would notice. 

John couldn’t decide if he preferred it that way or not.

What mattered most, however, was the fact he had roughly twenty more years of life to trudge through with no goals in sight. What did people do once they retired and had nothing else to their name or any ambitions to live up to? In all honesty, the only reason he had quit his former job was the superficial belief that a large change might jolt his life into some state of liveliness or interest for better or worse. In a way, he missed the routine and activity it provided that he was now sorely lacking. And if he was to consider working again… where did a retired fifty-four year old man even begin?

He quietly flipped over the card in his hand.

_ -Bougainvillea- _

_ The Bargain-Ville-a for Affordable yet Tasteful Floral Arrangements _

* * *

 

Months later, a tender flower would bloom deep within the cold man’s heart.

And he coughed it right out.


	2. Month 1 - Messy Floors

_Bougainvillea_ was tucked neatly into a street corner on the outskirts from town, and the route John took was just similar enough to his old routine that he was made slightly uncomfortable. He had never taken the time to explore much of the city away from his office building, much less the ‘new’ areas of town which were quickly gaining popularity.  

The windows of the shop were old and clouded, though clear enough to see through to the inside. An awning hung over the flowers set out in front of the store on a staircase display. A few hanging baskets of flowers could be seen from the inside as well as on either side of the door, gently twirling with the smallest touch.

For one who lived in tones of grey most of his life, the colors were nearly overwhelming.

They were arranged by color, making a rainbow display as the flowers changing moving upwards. John wasn’t any expert on flowers thus he could only tell they were different species by studying them up close. Someone had put a deal of meticulous work into arranging them by rows of color yet also changing the species as they went along.

If the outside of the store was vibrant, the inside was like being inside of the sun.

Every wall, tables, display stands, were all filled with vases and bowls and baskets of flowers. The longest wall across from the register was taken up by white buckets containing single species each as opposed to the other displays which carried premade bouquets and arrangements.

Never once had John felt any importance in understanding how the flower arrangements at work events, restaurants, or anywhere were decided upon, but now he felt a sense of respect for whoever chose them; he would never be able to do so. Sweeping over the room, each bundle simply looked… the same. There were different colors, of course, and different sizes, but he would never be able to choose one or the other for any means or events.

Flowers were always just flowers.

An old radio sat behind the counter, playing some old hit from John’s own youth that he was surprised to even remember. It was only after the initial shock of the sheer  _ quantity _ of flowers here was he able to pay attention to anything else. Such as the mess that comprised of the rest of the entire store; the walls were covered in old, peeling wallpaper, the tiled floors were littered with leaves and petals and stems, and the register he now stood in front of was an unorganized pigsty. 

“I was this close to taking down that ‘Hiring’ sign, y’kno?” the man before him said with a chuckle, clearing a space on the counter for himself to lean on. From where he stood in front, John could see enough over the counter to tell he was standing on a high stool in order to even reach the cash register. “It’s not that we’re really desperate or anything, but some leeway in the schedule would keep some of our guys off my ass.”

“Is that so.” It’d been quite some time since John had applied for a job.

Had he not seen the pin reading ‘Manager’ on his chest, John would have thought the man at the counter was a hermit who confused the store for his home in the forest. Some kind of gremlin or nymph that once was pretty but inevitably grew old with time. He was probably the same age, or at least as similar as they could be in dwarven years. A few stray petals from the store had made their home in his unkempt white beard. Or perhaps he placed them there on purpose. Just staring at him longer than a minute made John wonder if there was even a dwarven  _ word _ for ‘soap.’

“You have any experience with flowers at all? Gardens, nice old ladies down the street, making salad?” The owner, Merle, asked, and his sincerity in the question caught John off-guard.

“No, nothing quite like that. I’ve only worked in accounting--”

“So, like, paperwork?” Merle cut him off.

John recoiled. “I… yes, that was included in--”

“Paper comes from trees, trees are plants, good enough for me!” The dwarf let out a hearty laugh, and it was sudden enough to make John chuckle unexpectedly. Already this man had more character than the entirety of his previous workplace combined in his appearance alone. It wasn’t quite a bad thing (at least not yet), just more than he had dealt with in a while.

Merle finished looking through the resume John had provided, turning his head and searching for a place to put it before slapping it on a messy pile of papers mumbling, “findin’ a place for that shit’ll be your first job” under his breath.

He grabbed another paper from the same pile and hopped off of his stool while waving John to walk back with him to a room sectioned off by plastic curtains. “Most of the work here isn’t too hard,” he said, “as basic as retail gets; stock management, setting out displays, but you’d probably be better with taking and filing orders. Which is good, since all my kids are lazy shitheads who would rather rearrange displays all day instead of doing anything practical.”

“I haven’t seen anybody else,” John began while examining the new surroundings. While the outside and innards of the store were something of an organized mess, the back room was a complete disaster. Cut stalks and leaves covered the ground of the work room, with styrofoam blocks and sponges stacked high in wet piles all over the place. One wall was covered in vases and containers all shoved together in piles that looked ready to fall over like tupperware at any moment. The only thing in any relative order was the cold room with flowers labeled on their shelves.

Merle dipped into the refrigerator for a second and left John behind while he grabbed a few items. “Oh, she’s just out on a delivery right now. Any minute one kid’ll be back,” he explained while spreading the flowers out on the table at the center of the room. “We don’t need any other deliverers, though. You’ll probably just be working with taking orders and organizing them. Like,” while speaking, Merle reached across the counter for the paper he had brought into the room and pushed it in front of John, “this. It’s important we know what order and what times to fulfill jobs so they’re ready at the perfect time.”

John took the paper into his hands, examining it closely as if studying for a test. This was certainly more than he endeavored--nothing difficult, but he hadn’t put much thought into what went on behind the scenes at these places. It was somewhat comforting, knowing if he put his entirety into the work here he probably wouldn’t be too bored. The idea of being interested in something still was so foreign but so… oh so enticing.

There was one thing eating at him, though.

“I do have one question, Mr. Highch--”

“Nope!”

John blinked. “Pardon?”

“Just Merle, I already know I’m old, don’t gotta be reminded every other minute. I’m definitely not calling you Mr.--”

“Right, of course,” he quickly interrupted, not wanting to hear his last name. “But, Merle… you haven’t mentioned anything about the work with flowers itself.”

Merle chuckled, pausing from shucking the leaves from the stem he was trimming. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll just set you up on easy work for now and wait ‘til you’re able to even name some flowers before you start touchin’ ‘em.” 

“Quite fair enough.” He didn’t mind either way; it sounded like Merle had already hired him, and the more variety and difference there was to this job the better. The dwarf gave him an offhand task to familiarize himself with the work room if he would like, and John took the chance to explore the small area.

The main room of the shop was far larger than the back, dwarfing the work room (no pun intended) by three times. Most of the space was taken up by large shelving units and countertops lining the walls. Otherwise there was only two long tables parallel to each other filled with crumpled tissue paper and strips of ribbon. John didn’t ignore the broom in the corner with dust collecting on its surface.

The inside of the refrigerator could be seen from behind the glass door, cold to the touch. Inside was a small walk-in closet sized space with flowers of their respective species in small containers as well as finished products. Some were simple bouquets stored in small cans, while others were large, flamboyant displays that spilled over the edge of their shelves. 

It was only then that John realized he couldn’t remember what the arrangement he had been given by his previous boss looked like at all. If any of these were similar, he had no idea.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I had never been aware floral shops received this much business,” John said.

Merle barked a laugh in agreement. “They do if they’re the only ones in town. Although this place is pretty special, the people here take their flowers very seriously.”

John peered back into the large refrigerator as he listened. At the very least, he could recognize the difference between a display piece for events and the smaller arrangements he assumed were gifts. “You mean the people here are more sentimental?”

“In a way. I lived over on the east coast, tried doing some stuff there. Different stuff when I was younger, since over there, no one really gives a shit about flowers except for anniversaries or deaths!” John turned to face Merle, finally paying attention to what he was doing. As he spoke, his hands moved deftly, laying flowers on top of each other before taking them back and repositioning them repeatedly. “But I guess it’s to be expected. Hanahaki is way more rampant over here than anywhere for miles.”

Ah, that was true. He hadn’t made that connection.

John had only come in direct contact with the ordeal once. A coworker of his, a sweet young woman, had grown more reclusive than was usual for her; she would eat lunch alone, take breaks alone, and went so far as to take the waste from her small cubicle trash can out herself. It turned out she only did so to hide traces of her ‘disease’ as some preferred to call it.

At its heart, no one was quite sure just what Hanahaki was or where it originated. Corpses and live patients alike had been torn open to try and find the source, only to leave doctors more stunted than before. It dated back centuries and seemed to appear in clusters, though no one could determine if it was contagious or not for the longest time.

It took until a group of magicians came forward and posed their own theory in opposition to the medical practitioners’. Now it was widely accepted that Hanahaki was a curse of the gravest kind, placed on one’s kin centuries ago as retribution for some serious crime. Though it may not be contagious, it seemed to pass its way down through families. One could go their entire lives believing they were normal, and all it took was one skewed emotion to send their lives flying.

Symptoms only began, oddly enough, when the victim found themselves experiencing unrequited romantic feelings. Such was the basis for moving research of the phenomenon away from medical professionals and into the hands of those closer to the supernatural or magical. During moments in which there was high emotional tension or feelings of love, the victim would inexplicably and quite painfully have their lungs filled with flower petals which could only be coughed up to ease.

In some severe cases, entire flowers would bloom in a victim’s throat, causing many to suffocate just like that. Others had flowers or petals appear in their stomach at such a disgusting quantity they could only be forcefully vomited to remove. No experiences with the curse were ever pleasant.

“People will find the types of flowers they encounter with the curse and ask for arrangements based off of them. Sort of become somethin’ like a tradition in this city,” Merle explained while keeping his eyes on the work before him. “I think it’s kind of ridiculous, maybe insensitive, but it’s what they wanna do.”

Finally, Merle held up the bunch of flowers to examine, twisting them around before he grabbed at one of the stray lengths of ribbon on the table. Once they were tied together, he held it out for John to inspect.

“What do you think?”

He stared at the bouquet openly, wracking his brain for something to say. With his lack of knowledge in botany… it was something. John could pick apart there were different types of flowers in it for sure. There were… large white ones. Of some sort. And smaller, dark blue ones as well… 

“It’s pretty?”

Merle threw his head back and let out a loud, hearty laugh. “Thank god you’re good at other shit, John!” He then went on with his work, setting the bouquet down to fetch colored paper from a rack on the wall. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you learning in no time. When is the earliest you’d be fine with coming in to learn--”

John was only aware of the back door handle jiggling for a moment before it burst open.

“Hey, yo, big man!” A deep voice called from beyond the door. John turned just in time to not be caught off guard by the orc woman who made her way inside with a number of boxes being held up on her shoulders, not having to use her hands to push the door open. “Shipment just got in, where you want em?”

The dwarf rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Set ‘em here, we can get started on it now.” As the woman set the boxes on the ground with a large ‘thump,’ Merle met John’s eye across the table. “Actually, if you’ve got time to stick around, how’s about a mini lesson?”

“Woah, we actually got a new guy?” she whistled while using a knife from her pocket to slice a few of the boxes open. Once the top of each stack were open, she set the tool down and made her way over to John. She stuck her hand out with a shockingly bright grin, chest puffed out. John couldn’t help but notice she was… actually much taller than him. And he was by no means short. “It’s been forever since we had a new hire! I’m Killian, usually do the deliveries more than anything.”

He took her hand with a firm shake. “John, it’s nice to meet you, miss--”

“Ooh, nope!” she immediately cut him off, giving John a sense of deja-vu. “Yikes, nada, nope, not that. Just Killian my guy.”

John was already beginning to notice the odd similarities between Merle and his employees. The two of them combined had more personality than every person in his previous work room which, once again, was not a bad thing at all. It might take some time to get used to, though he  _ had _ just returned from traveling a few select parts of the world.

Killian seemed nice enough, at the very least. Orcs had a reputation of being quite brutish and were unnecessarily stereotyped often. He couldn’t deny she appeared strong. But an orc working in a flower shop struck him as odd; John would have sooner expected goblins in a bakery.

“Stop distracting my new employee, Killian,” Merle said from across the table and gave her a reprimanding look. Funnily enough, the orc threw her hands up in defeat as the much smaller dwarf chastised her. “You’re off the clock now anyways, aren’t you?”

“You bet; Carey’s waiting for me at home, I’ll see you later big man!” As she started towards the door, Killian gave a smile and wave over her shoulder. “Nice meeting you, John!”

He waved despite her having already turned her back. Merle was already grabbing armfuls of fresh flowers from the boxes and laying them out on the table when John approached him. “I have time to spare, if you would like to continue.”

With a simple smile, Merle nodded and dove right into it.

A half hour passed quickly. All the while, Merle taught him how to separate unnecessary leaves and foliage from the stems of flowers brought in directly from fields. As expected, it was much different from any work he had been expected to do in the office, but he could still see himself growing tired of the monotony after a while. John was frequently attempting new things at a time, hence his spur of the moment decisions to retire and travel and so on. Every time, however, the ‘newness’ wore off and he was left bored once again.

The flowers themselves weren’t particularly interesting, but he was barely given the chance to focus on them at all while Merle spoke. The dwarf talked his ear off the entire time with instructions, explanations, and horrible jokes. “It’s not a big deal if it isn’t perfect,” Merle said while examining the stalk John had taken too much off of. “Hold it like this…” He took the flower from his hand and bunched it together with a bunch of the same kind, holding it out to view from the top with a grin. “Can’t tell the difference at all.”

It wasn’t particularly riveting by any means. Only every few moments would John give any response or confirmation he was listening as Merle did the majority of the talking. Together they finished trimming up the stems of two full crates together, leaving the rest for Merle to do himself the rest of the night or tomorrow.

When it was finally time for him to leave, it was with the agreement he would return the next day to continue picking up work from a few other employees who would be coming in throughout the day. They parted, and John made the uneventful journey back to his still empty house. 

It wasn’t until he laid in bed that night did he realize he hadn’t been bored all day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first, thanks to everyone who's shown interest!! I can't promise how quickly chapters will be out but goddamn if I ain't tryin my best.
> 
> I plan for this series to go pretty quickly with about one or two chapters per month for a period of time. 
> 
> if you enjoyed, please leave kudos and comments!! i love talking


	3. Month 1 - Botany Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for tuning in! 
> 
> sloooowly we are getting to all the characters... I have so many canon charas I want to bring in but fuck it'll take a while.
> 
> John doesn't know what a fucking flower is.

In summation, the week following was nothing but hectic.

John was shuffled into the regular mix of madness that was  _ Bougainvillea _ and all it encompassed. In a hurricane of events, he had been introduced to just about every employee besides a few who were out for a while, and was caught up to speed on everything he would be doing. The work itself wasn’t difficult, not once he learned what he was doing--in fact, Merle constantly praised his organization when handling orders and applauded how clean the counter appeared whenever he was working. 

Although it was a more popular floral shop, it was still a floral shop, meaning business wasn’t always booming; he spent his free time trying to clean up the place as best as he could for his own sake. His work scene had changed from a stale, immaculate set of offices and paperwork to this monstrosity of a warzone, and he couldn’t give up every part of the tidiness he left behind. With the gloves used for handling flowers, John dusted off the neglected broom from the back and set to work. Two weeks into the fray, he’d made something of a routine for cleaning while he was on duty. 

Now he could identify the delicate patterns in the tile of the floor, had a filing system in place behind the front desk, and soon planned on doing something about that refrigerator. The latter was the most difficult part of the job so far; he still had no idea what he was doing with the flowers themselves.

At most, John could identify what price went with which flower if someone were to come in seeking smaller, hand picked arrangements themselves. Otherwise he was constantly referring to a number of books at the register to identify them. So far he had learned the difference between roses and a leaf.

‘Frustrating’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Through sheer will alone, he incorporated studying basic flower identification into his routine with the books Merle kept around. If John noticed a few more volumes were being stacked on the shelf behind the counter once Merle had first found out, he didn’t say anything about it.

“It’s good to see you’ve finally gotten into the swing of things,” another coworker, a young human woman named Julia said after a while. As if breaking out of a trance, John lifted his eyes from the book before him to meet her pretty smile. “I’ve always loved flowers since I was a girl, and I learned about them through years of experience. I can’t imagine trying to learn everything now.”

Of all the people he’d met so far, Julia was by far the kindest. She worked full time in rotation with a half-elf, Sloane, who didn’t speak nearly as much as the former. He could relate to Sloane’s quiet nature and appreciate the comfortable silence she provided when they were on shift together, but John didn’t mind the good-natured chattering of Julia either.

“It’s difficult working without knowing even the basics,” he hummed, marking his page in the book with a fat, blue flower petal he had picked up from the floor earlier. John held it in his hand for a moment, concentrating; was this one a lily? No, maybe some kind of cosmos? If only they didn’t all look the  _ same _ \--

“Periwinkle,” she provided helpfully. “They’re one of my favorites.”

“I can’t much say whether or not I have a preference,” John muttered.

Once the book was closed, Julia went ahead and grabbed it from him to put back into its place on the shelf behind them. “I think you’ll find some--and I want to be the first to hear what your favorite flower is when that comes!” Her smile was so bright, John felt his stomach turn uncomfortably at the sheer emotional investment someone was already hounding on him. He hadn’t spoken about himself or any preferences (as small as they may be) in… well, ever. Having the people here actually speak to him and appear genuinely interested in what he had to say was definitely a new experience.

The chime of the bell in the doorway earned both of their attention, only for Julia to light up like a Candlenights tree and flee from her position at the counter. Within seconds, the human who walked in had her swept up in his arms and the two were immediately on another plane of existence.

John had met plenty of people who didn’t work here, just from the connections his coworkers had alone. Magnus was one of their most frequent visitors as he would occasionally stop in during his breaks to greet his wife at work. His own woodcarving shop was just a few blocks down from  _ Bougainvillea _ , so he was over often.

The two twirled around once as they always did before he set her down, faces pressed close enough together that John felt uncomfortable watching. Although Julia was always happy, she was never as delighted as when she was with her husband. The same could be said for his two other coworkers, Sloane and Barry, who worked part time. It seemed everyone always had lovers and friends coming in to greet each other as if the concept of meeting outside of work was unfathomable. The most experience John had with people he knew here was taking a phone call from somebody he had sold to a few weeks ago and vaguely remembered the voice of.

Merle entered from the back at the perfect time, giving John somewhere to avert his eyes as the lovers reunited for the first time in hours. Meeting John’s eye, the dwarf made a gagging motion then waved over his shoulder for John to follow him. He wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to leave a high-emotion room, and he told Julia she would have to watch the desk over his shoulder as he left. Even if she was distracted, they could trust she still got work done; it was Magnus who would be the problem, trying to distract her.

“Yuck, you think the honeymoon phase would wear off after a couple of years,” Merle shook his body dramatically for effect once they were behind the plastic curtains. “When I married my ex-wife, she wouldn’t even let me touch her hand a week after we were married! Now I kinda get why.”

“You were married?”

“Long time ago.” Merle wiggled his ring finger which was, sure enough, empty. “But that’s beside the point--I wanted to ask you something, John.”

The prospect of something his boss couldn’t ask in front of Julia was only slightly concerning. He quickly scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, only finding cleanliness which, well, was still out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

Hopping up on another stool and reaching across the table, Merle grabbed a paper from the top of the pile set there for current orders. He read it quickly before turning it over to John. “What do you think?”

John accepted and looked over the paper in his own handwriting; it was an order due tomorrow, called in a week ahead of time as a gift for some man’s anniversary. He remembered him being quite anxious over the phone while filling out the order. “An anniversary bouquet,” he recited, “only specifying he wanted something with carnations. Pretty standard as far as orders go, what about it?”

Merle met his eye over the paper before stepping down from the stool and retreating into the freezer for only a moment. When he emerged, it was with a bundle of flowers--red carnations--in his hands. He set them on the table and moved to stand beside John, giving him a curious stare.

“Want to give it a try?

He regarded the carnations warily. Once they had yet to jump out and attack him, John slowly nodded.

In summation, the minutes following were nothing but hectic.

John agreed to try an arrangement solely because the only ones in the store who knew how were Merle, Sloane, and Julia, and Sloane would be taking time off soon. They would need more hands to help out, and yet…

He was absolutely miserable.

Merle had given him an advantage for his first time and suggested a color scheme for him to stick to. Otherwise, the dwarf stood next to him and watched everything he was doing, providing helpful critique from time to time such as:

“Nope.”

“Yeah, try that again.”

“Uhhhh…”

In other words, John was growing increasingly frustrated with the number of flowers spread out on the table before him. He had gone and picked a number of choices to try and get an idea for some kind of order. Holding a few red carnations, his other hand with pink peonies slowly approached to put them together--

“Maybe not that.”

John slowly turned his head to level him with an irritated look. Only then did Merle elaborate with a sigh.

“The peonies are also large, open flowers like the carnation. They’re similar, but different enough that you don’t want to overwhelm the bouquet with too much of both. Especially if the carnations are the center.”

When he heard it like that, it made slightly more sense. John put the two groups of flowers together in his hand; having so little knowledge, they really did look too similar. But that was  _ why _ he had thought to pick them… and it was all he knew to go off of besides colors.

The few times he had assisted Merle during arrangements, all he had done was retrieved what was asked, grabbing flowers and papers and ribbons. Otherwise Merle acted with steady, exact movements that John couldn’t mimic if he tried. He knew it was all from experience, given they were both the same age. 

He wasn’t giving up just yet. Through his studying of the botany books provided, there was one thing John picked up on without a problem. As long as they were words, he could remember them easily. Returning to the refrigerator, he located a number of flowers by their name tags.

Alstroemeria, devotion.

Stephanotis, marital happiness.

Daisies, loyalty.

He held a few of each in one hand while the other continued to fiddle with the carnations. Surely if he were to put these together--

“The hell are you doing?” Merle interrupted him, staring quizzically at the flowers he had gathered.

John’s brows furrowed together. “Is something wrong with these?”

“No, not necessarily, but… why are you picking them out like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re reading words instead.”

So Merle didn’t think he was making these decisions based off of their visual qualities--which was, technically, correct. John set them back down and spread them out on the table. “I still haven’t quite grasped the appearances and names of all the products here. I’ve been reading the books you have at the counter, so I thought to use flower language instead since it’s an anniversary? Such as combining flowers with meanings of love, devotion, and so on. It gets the point across quite directly.”

Merle gaped at him openly.

Then began to laugh.

His loud, unhinged guffaws caught John more than a little offguard, and he nearly dropped the plants he was holding. “In this day and age? Maybe if we were performing a  _ ritual _ or something! Here, give me those…”

He hopped back up on his stool to stand before the table and grabbed the flowers from their spot in from of John.

“These aren’t  _ bad _ flowers to use, but nobody would think to understand it like that. When people buy flower arrangements, it’s for the visual appeal,” Merle explained as he began working, holding three carnations together as he surrounded them with sprigs of white--baby’s breath--and a few of the daisies. “You’re pretty good at talking, John, but some people aren’t. It can be hard to put things into words and express everything you’re feeling to someone, regardless of what it is.”

John watched Merle work with a new curiosity, actually taking in what he was doing. Stacking one flower somewhere then removing it, putting it somewhere else and replacing with another. Smaller, gentler flowers always separated the larger ones from each other in varying shades.

“A colorful, profound expression of emotions without needing words. It’s our job to communicate that.”

A sprig of leaves sticking out at the bottom and enough green between the flowers to add different colors. Merle worked seamlessly and without error, stubby old fingers working with the dexterity of a tailor. “Remarkable,” John mumbled, focusing on the simplicity and ease with which Merle made decisions and placements. He swiftly grabbed his scissors with one hand and straightening out the stems with another so the bottom was even.

“See this?” he offered, holding out the bouquet of carnations, daisies, and bouvardia together for John to see. “There’s a diversity in color, not all pinks and reds, and they’re not all bunched together. They go in between, surround, and separate each other fluidly; because emotions are complex. There’s no real order to them at all when you look close, but on a larger scale?”

He handed off the bouquet to John so he could pull and cut a length of pink tissue paper, wrapping it with ribbon to hold together. Once he picked out a vase, he filled it and left it in the middle of the table for John to set them down, then gestured for him to take a step back.

Sure enough, the flowers appeared different once they were finished. It was no longer a puzzle or a game he was trying to decipher, but now a finished project. And for the life of him, John could hardly understand how it came to be when he had been watching the entire time.

“Overall, feelings like love are going to be smooth, and all the emotions making up a relationship create one big, peaceful picture.” Merle sighed dreamily, hands on his hips as he appreciated his work. John nodded as his words continued to bounce around in his head. 

How had he thought to use those flowers? Why did he choose bouvardia to go between the carnations and daisies instead of the baby’s breath? Why did the latter surround the roses, and why were the roses only on one side instead of being symmetrical--

Merle’s laughter retrieved John from his thoughts, though it was less raucous this time. “Sorry to get preachy, I used to be a priest way back in the day, the cloth never really leaves you! C’mon, let’s get this tagged and squared away so we can give Julia a break. They’re probably done snogging by now.”

John let the priest comment slide, knowing with this dwarf it would be brought up again at some point. Or perhaps, he simply didn’t want to talk about it, like his past marriage. There were many conversations they’d had where Merle left important bits of information hanging around without meaning or direction. The boss himself was one of the many mysteries of the shop.

Once the order was properly tagged and set in the freezer, John returned to the front of the store where Julia and Magnus were happy to try and rope him into conversation. It didn’t matter that he didn’t participate as the two were quickly lost in each other within minutes of starting back up. He was grateful for the time to himself; his mind was absolutely swimming with the events of the past half hour.

Nothing changed on his walk home. Despite everything that had happened and how seriously John thought over it, he was only sure of one thing when he laid in bed that night.

He had not understood a single word Merle said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will probably be up next friday or sooner! I'm keeping track on writing them ahead of time. next chapter jumps right in to john's second month working!
> 
> leave kudos and comments if you can!


	4. Month 2 - Word Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoped i would get a chance in fic to explain but it's harder to do given it's AU. I've been trying to write John as I imagine he would've been before the whole Hunger thing happened, and trying to make an unknown chara develop into how he is in the show kind of is really hard damn?

“Sloane, would you mind taking care of the customer at the counter?” John asked as he passed the woman, rushing to the other side of the room. He shook off his gloves and stuffed them into the front pocket of his apron. “I have to help Killian’s delivery.”

The half-elf in question nodded and was already walking to the desk. “No problem; tell her I said hi.”

In no time at all, but also an eternity, a little less than a month went by and John found himself still working at  _ Bougainvillea _ . It was a routine he found more agreeable than staying home and doing nothing all day or wasting money on trips or valuables he didn’t enjoy. It was something to do, it paid, and it remained fast paced enough to keep him busy.

“I gotta go, John,” Killian said when he entered the back room. “I’m gonna leave the boxes outside on the ground alright?”

“No, no, I’m right here, I’ll take them.”

It didn’t come as a surprise to John the ease with which he was able to take this new work in stride. Once he had learned the basics from Julia and Sloane, he was able to catch on to most everything else besides the flower arrangements specifically. But he didn’t have to worry about those too often as long as Sloane was still around. Merle constantly praised the small changes he was slowly bringing to the store, such as the filing system which actually organized their papers and creating a very bare-bones website. They argued endlessly over whether or not they should make the switch to digital orders and archiving just yet.

The two of them were becoming something resembling ‘closer.’ John felt himself opening up in his manner of speaking and habits around the dwarf, and they were more than capable of holding interesting conversations at a length of time. He had yet to uncover any of his many secrets, but that too was something he planned to work towards.

Not that he would ever admit occasionally thinking of Merle as a… friend, or anything. They were nowhere near that personal.

Once Killian had left and John finished emptying out the contents of today’s load, he glanced at the clock on the wall; 3:07PM. Any minute now, one of their many loiterers would enter…

“Sloane!” a cheerful voice greeted the bell on the door as she hopped right in. So, today would be Hurley; John didn’t mind, she was one of his more well liked guests they had. Her presence was one of the only things that made Sloane smile when she was at the shop.

Sure enough, Sloane’s face brightened as she smiled and waved at the halfling approaching the counter. “You’re early,” she noted, leaning over the desk reflexively as Hurley posed upwards for a peck on the cheek. “Work is slow?”

“Just the opposite. For the first time in forever, I actually got to chase someone’s car down the freeway. Being an officer; definitely not as fun as I thought!”

The two giggle together, and John makes himself scarce in the main room to give them space. He had become used to filing everything and writing orders in the morning, and then he would retreat in the back room so whatever guest they had could enjoy themselves up front. He didn’t much mind the new routine; it was better than sitting in one place doing the same thing all day.

“Hey, I thought I saw another tall, dark, and handsome!” John looked up in time to see Hurley waving at him from the entrance to the back. He isn’t sure how to react to her sunshine smile being directed towards him in particular. “How’re you doing, John?”

His hands momentarily froze between cutting the stalks of white lilies before he remembered to continue. “Fine, it’s nice to see you, Hurley, though I always fear for our city’s lack of active officers.”

Only when she started laughing did John realize he made a joke. “Hey, whatever man! At least we’re not for lack of some pretty flowers, huh? Anyways, I wanted to ask you something!”

He glanced up at her with a brow raised.

“We’re all having a big barbecue, we have one every month at Julia and Magnus’s place--you should come by next weekend!”

A series of alarms immediately went through his head. This wasn’t the first time John had been asked out to some social event with coworkers; no, people would at the office all the time, though after a few decades it became more of a formality they’d ask at least once a year. This was the first time the people he worked with had made an earnest effort to always speak with and get to know him, though, and he was on high alert.

He already barely knew how to speak with these social, high functioning people. What would a  _ party _ do to him?

“I--appreciate the offer, Hurley,” he could already see her face drop infinitesimally, “but I believe I’ve already made plans this weekend.” Plans to sit at home and reread the same book four times over a bottle of wine. It was his own tradition.

She huffed a small pout, but continued smiling. “What a damn shame--you ought to come by if something happens, alright?”

John assured her he would, and she promptly left the shop after giving Sloane a quick goodbye. He seamlessly picked his work back up and gathered up the cleaned lilies and took them out to the front. It appeared as if Sloane wanted to say something by the way she watched him walk by, but held back.

He didn’t particularly feel bad about turning them down. And what he’d said was true; he appreciated the offer for what it was worth, yet at the same time… there was no way he’d be comfortable at such an event, even if these people had shown him nothing but kindness thus far.

When he retired that night, he didn’t think much of it. Nobody pestered him at work, and they all returned to duty as usual.

Until the unexpected occurred.

As soon as he entered the shop a week later, he immediately knew something was different. Nobody was at the front desk, which wasn’t unusual in the early mornings, but he could hear a number of voices speaking excitedly from the back. Usually no more than three people were ever on shift at a time, and that alone was rare. He could pick out at least five distinct voices, and he only recognized two.

Cautiously, John approached the back to begin the day as he always did by setting his things down and putting on his apron. The moment he pulled back the curtains, however, the scene all but erupted.

“John! There you are, man!” Merle was the first to call loudly, waving from the other side of the work bench.

It took a moment to process all the activity going on.

He anticipated both Merle and Julia from the sound of their voices, but three people stood unidentified in the center of the crowd. The first he noticed was a rather tall man, about John’s own height, all slim, dark, and undeniably handsome. By his side was a vaguely familiar elf the same height as Magnus but not quite as tall as the man beside him. John regarded his outfit in the same manner he studied Merle’s flower arrangements--with complete confusion and bewilderment. Between them, a young tiefling boy had both men’s hands on his shoulders, and he appeared to beam at the collective attention.

They were quite a bunch of characters.

“I told you about one of my buddies, the one who used to work here a while ago?” Merle filled in for him, now at his side to helpfully supply information. “Hey, Taako, come over here for a second! This is the new guy I was just tellin’ you about.”

The elven man was already watching John with a blank face, slowly taking him in from head to toe before his face was pulled into a goofy grin. John couldn’t help but feel like he was being left out on the other side of a joke. “Well, hail and well met, my man,” the stranger greeted him as he crossed the distance with a hand out. “Name’s Taako, somewhat famous, somehow here, someincredibly cooler than your boss.”

Pavlovian professionalism commanded John to shake his hand when offered. “It’s… nice to meet you, Taako. I’m John, I’ve been here a bit more than a month.”

The more intimidating man stepped forward now to shake his hand as well. By the exasperated smile on his face, John could tell he found the elf’s  _ bravado _ endearing where it befuddled him. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Kravitz, Taako’s husband.”

Taako held his hand to cover his mouth from Kravitz’s sight as if sharing a secret with John. “It’s a recent development. Then Ango, a kid that keeps breaking into our house to steal food every night.”

The child in question tugged on Taako’s sleeve. “Actually, sir, the adoption agency said--”

“ _ Anyways! _ ” Taako loudly interrupted him with both hands pressing down on the kid’s shoulders. “Unfortunately, we just stopped in to give everyone an update which has, dutifully, been given. It was nice meeting me, I’m sure, laters!” Steering the young boy, he began to lead them out of the room as Kravitz followed behind honorably with proper farewells.

Angus wrenched himself away from his--parental figure? To peek his head inside the room with a grin. “We’ll see you this weekend!” he chirped happily before being dragged back outside. 

John listened to them chatter back and forth before the bell on the front door rang and they all left the building. They seemed close, a nice little family, if he was being honest.

“They’re a handful, aren’t they?” Julia said, casually looping her arm around one of John’s as she led the two of them to the front. The action would make him uncomfortable if he wasn’t so aware of her purely good intentions. She let him go as soon as they reached the counter and began opening the register. “Taako worked here a while ago, then he and Kravitz got married. Now he’s trying to open up his own place.”

“Another floral shop?”

“A restaurant.”

He nodded. “Sounds interesting.”

“It is,” Merle joined in as he walked past the plastic dividers and strolled up to them. He didn’t bother stepping up on his stool to be level with them. “Taako used to be the head chef at a place a long time ago, then stopped and came here after some shit went down.”

Julia smiled dreamily, propping up her chin on her hand as she leaned over the counter. “And it’s all because of that cute family he’s back on his feet. God, I’d kill to steal Angus from them!”

“You know that boy’s well and happiest where he is,” Merle laughed. “Taako shows his love in odd ways--you and Magnus will get your babe eventually.”

Her expression softened just slightly, but didn’t fall. Julia’s fertility problems were something he had heard about pretty early on as she was constantly updating everyone on their current efforts. One day she would happily talk about a new medication they were trying or visiting a doctor later that evening, only for her to return disheartened the next day. Even if he wouldn’t say they’re friends, it was only natural John felt sorry for her situation.

“Hey, speaking of which!” she suddenly perked up. “Merle, why don’t you bring  _ your _ squirts over this weekend!”

The dwarf cleared his throat loudly. “ _ Anyways! _ John, come work with me in the back today, we’re picking up from last time!”

John had to mask his surprise over the comment momentarily while Merle lead him back to the work space they had just left. He could hear Julia laughing from the front, likely over having flustered their boss. It was always unusual seeing Merle actually get embarrassed or defensive about anything.

“I’ll do today’s, but you’re gonna have to try and get what I’m doing, yeah?” Merle asked as he plucked the first order from the stack and mulled it over.

Their lessons in flower arrangement had continued over the past few weeks, albeit sporadically given their schedules and Merle’s simple not wanting to at a given time. After the first attempt, Merle decided they would go from the basics up, so far just talking him through his own process while highlighting the pros and cons of using certain species together.

It was a lot of information that John had to try and force himself to understand. He was learning the names better and could now pick out the most basic flowers from each other, but not enough to put them together in any sort of order.

“Let’s see… today we’ve got a gift--ah, it’s another hanahaki,” Merle mutters to himself more than John, running his fingers through his beard. “Alright, let’s get this done, John, this won’t take long.!”

They’d had a few orders for arrangements centered around a victim of hanahaki before, and they were the ones that confused John most, despite Merle saying they were simple. Typically, the customer would include the names of flowers that had been afflicting their loved one either as a guide to include or avoid them. They’d usually send about three in, describe the purpose of the gift, and by the time John had finished writing out the paperwork Merle had a plan clear in his head.

Already now, the dwarf was retreating into the fridge to grab a few flowers while instructing John to pick some up from the front. He did so obediently, now able to identify the ones he was given, and returns to find Merle already stacking flowers together.

Calliopsis and yellow tulips were the main ingredients today.

John simply watched Merle work attentively and listened whenever he had something to say. Every now and then his boss would ask a question to quiz him, and he got about a third right, usually. Today, however, Merle was less insistent and seemed unusually focused on his work.

“So,” John eventually offered, gaining Merle’s attention immediately. He couldn’t help the small smirk that rose to his face. “Your mysteries build up more each day.”

Merle scoffed and shook his head, but smiles as well. “Remove the log in your own eye before you call out a splinter in somebody else’s,” he recited with his preacher tone of voice that made John roll his eyes. “When am I gonna get to hear about your mysterious past, too, huh?”

“Question for a question?”

He could see Merle’s smile warp into a mischievous smirk and he finally lifted his head from his work to stare up at John. “Since I’m your boss, I get to go first, right?”

“Fair enough.”

“You have any family?”

John hummed, leaning back against the table as he watched Merle work carefully. “Not particularly. My parents passed away a few years ago, no siblings. I moved out of the house when I was young and didn’t return often.” He shrugged the question off casually; he and his family had never been close. There wasn’t anything negative between them, per se, but they simply grew apart. He had no regrets or anything to be ashamed of there. “Your turn--same question.”

“What!” Merle exclaimed. “That’s all? Geez, gonna wring this out of me… I have two kids, one’s from the ex-wife’s previous marriage and the other’s mine. The Highchurch blood--Rockseeker, really--goes pretty far among dwarves back home, but few are out here, so it’s the same as having no family here at all. Get on Fantasy Facebook though and they’re everywhere.”

“Why don’t you talk about your kids?”

“Ah-ah, my turn, big guy,” he clicked his tongue and pointed a sprig of baby’s breath in John’s direction. John raised his hands in mock defeat, gesturing for him to continue. “You’re up there with me in age, never been married?”

John felt his nose scrunch up reflexively. “No, not at all. I haven’t considered the idea in decades.” Even then it was a lie; he had never thought of marriage at all. Any time John went on a date with someone in his past, it only ever was just the one date and then nothing else.

He was realistic about considering partners; no one seemed interesting enough to keep around for so long.

When he managed to extract himself from his reverie, he found Merle staring up at him expectantly, waiting for something else before realizing John was finished. “God, getting anything good out of you is like pulling teeth!”

“I apologize my life is not the telenovela you find yourself in. Why did you become a priest?”

Merle’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t been expecting the question before his brows furrow together. “That’s a long conversation in and of itself--I don’t mind having it, but it just felt like the right next-step to take when I was young. Our family was religious, I followed them, didn’t wanna do much else, so it made sense. I didn’t actually get into it for years, though.”

“So you still work with it? Sorry--that was another question, wasn’t it?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Who cares, we’re adults. Yeah, it never really leaves you, even if I don’t go out and preach anymore. There’s still ways of spreading religion and peace and all that shit without doin’ the whole temple thing--hey, get me a few white peonies, will you? Just two more.”

John nodded and pushed himself up away from the table he was leaning on. He hadn’t anticipated their conversation to stretch out this far, and definitely didn’t expect to learn this much about Merle in general. As John collected a few of the designated flower from the front of the store and strode back in, he thought of other questions he could be asking to get the most out of him.

Julia was kind, probably one of the nicest people he had ever met with a genuine interest in him that endeared John. Sloane was also caring in her own way, and the conversations they had when they  _ did _ talk tended to be more insightful than not. Their other coworker only worked part-time, and John didn’t get much of an opportunity to talk with him all that much.

Talking with Merle was… different. The more John thought about it, the more confusing it became as he couldn’t place just what was amiss. On the surface he was just like every other cheerful, slightly odd dwarf on the block. He watched him for a second from the entrance, studying the way his brows knit together then shot up when he placed something together. It wasn’t about all the loose ends he left in conversations to figure out later--John was getting the answers now, and still he couldn’t understand.

“Here.” John handed over the flowers and noticed Merle had already completely rearranged the entire thing.

Calliopsis and tulips. As Merle returned to concentrating on the task at hand, John looked over the order form once more. A gift for a young woman with hanahaki curse from a friend. Nothing else was included on the form, and as John hadn’t been the one to take the order, he didn’t know anything else.

He remembered conversations he and Merle had had multiple times already. The importance of emotion and thought within flower arrangements, things he was still trying to understand but continued to slip right past him.

Baby’s breath, white peonies, and holly. It’s a visually appealing arrangement, but John is unable to tell the difference between it and a funeral spray. The colors are different, as this one is filled primarily with bright yellows instead of just white. Then again, all funeral sprays and bridal bouquets were nearly identical as well.

“Merle,” he finally began, paper in hand. The dwarf made a noise of acknowledgement. “In line with your ideas that arrangements are meant to portray emotions and coherent thought… how do you interpret these cases--hanahaki.”

Merle hummed in thought for a moment, twirling a sprig of holly between his fingers before looking up at John. “It’s complicated; some are sympathetic, but it’s never just that.” He tilted his head back and forth, eyes at the ceiling as if searching for words before he finally focused on John again. “The feelings that go into them are more… complicated. They’re the most difficult to understand, and arranging them is usually difficult for anyone else.” He grabbed at a length of ribbon he drew out beforehand and measured it in his hand while turning the bouquet around. “Most people know enough about love and grief to make arrangements centered around them. But with stuff like this--well, you can’t measure how a person feels.”

The question hung heavy in the air, and John knew he would have to ask it. Their silly game from before was since forgotten, interesting as it had been at the time. On the other side of the partition, he could hear the bell ringing as customers came and went from the store. Occasionally Julia spoke up loudly enough to hear.

They worked in a floral shop, dealing with flowers all day, every day. Merle had been the one to open this store up on his own volition, planned it himself, went through with it alone as far as John knew. All he could hear in his head were the many sermons he had been given before, run on sentences about the merit behind floral arrangements as expressions of emotions and thought and all of that. It was the only clue he had as to why Merle even worked here, or why he started in the beginning.

John didn’t look at Merle directly when he spoke, focusing on the flowers in his hold instead. “So how do you know?”

The ribbon got tied neatly around the stalks of the bouquet and Merle cut the stems all at once. As he strode over to the racks of tissue paper, John could hear the other take a deep breath.

“One of my best friends was cursed, a while ago.”

The bell out front rang again.

It made sense. 

The air turned cold and heavier with the weight of Merle’s words hanging in the air between them. Hanahaki was a cruel curse that manifested in those with intense unrequited feelings of love. The victim would cough up the petals of flowers that bloomed in their lungs, sometimes even their throats or stomachs. It was a painful experience, requiring immediate hospitalization to stabilize the condition as much as possible for as long as possible.

After all, the most known symptom of hanahaki was death.

It was merciless in its victims, not only subjecting them to the worst pains of their hearts but also the fatal consequences that came with it.

Merle continued speaking. “Thankfully, he was one of the lucky ones, and recovered. Regardless, those feelings and experiences leave an impression.”

“I… am relieved to hear that,” John muttered, watching intently as he set the arrangement in a small vase pulled from the shelf. Oddly enough, where John was usually unable to feel sympathy for others, he could not help but be… offput by the distant, foreign expression on Merle’s face. It didn’t suit him, not at all, and the fact he  _ knew _ that made him uncomfortable.

John remained quiet as Merle went about finishing up everything. He wrote off the order, tagged it to the arrangement, and sent it off to the freezer to be picked up tomorrow.

“Hey, John!” he heard him call from the fridge, surprised to see the dwarf emerge with an easy smile as he shut the door behind him. “You asked me two questions in a row, you rat bastard. Because of that, you now have to agree to what was going to be my next question.”

He doesn’t know how to react to the sudden change in tone. The air had just been so cold and delicate, and Merle crashed it himself. “I--guess, it depends on what it is?”

A rough hand placed on his arm made John jump unexpectedly. He didn’t really register until now that Merle had never touched him more than a clap on his back, and suddenly the extended contact made his skin burn. It wasn’t romantic or hated, nothing of the sort. But he simply couldn’t comprehend it.

Merle was wearing his softer, preacher smile now (or as Magnus liked to call it, ‘Grandpa Mode’). “Come to the party this weekend.”

Evidently the expression on John’s face was enough to prompt Merle to clarify.

“You don’t have to if you  _ really _ don’t want to--but I think you’d enjoy it if you tried, really got out there with all of us. The kids here really enjoy your wit, they were disappointed when you said no the first time.”

He had seen Hurley’s face fall when he said no, but John chocked it up to rejection in general. The idea of his coworkers acknowledging his existence outside of work, actually talking about him,  _ positively _ , and wanting to spend time with him for the pure sake of… intimacy?

It was very new, and very surprising.

“It’s… been quite a while since I went out with anybody for anything, Merle,” he confessed as if the dwarf himself was not the main issue here. He couldn’t imagine what anybody would be asking from him. “I”d be a little more than just out of my element.”

“Pshaw!” Merle finally removed his hand and waved it in the air, now smiling wide. “I get pushed aside by the kids anyways, I could use another old man to criticize today’s youth with!”

The smile that came to John’s face is involuntary, and he has to wonder when his facial muscles began to rebel against him. He knew Merle was lying, absolutely. He had seen how all of them interacted, and while Merle wasn’t the center of the conversation, he threw himself in full force all the time; they all participated equally despite any age or whatever differences.

“You’ll have to send me the directions.”

Merle’s face lit up like a display case, but he toned it down as soon as it came. “Well, handsome, you’re going to have to give me your phone number first!”

It’s all so strange.

Enough that John felt like he may have dreamed the entire day, not because it was so wonderful or anything so trite; but it wasn’t him. On his way home, John thought over the course of the day as if he were watching a movie in which a strikingly similar actor was in his place.

He couldn’t justify his responses, physical or emotional, to anything Merle had done or said. He especially couldn’t understand what had possessed him to agree to throwing himself straight into the lion’s pit.

When he walked through his door and pulled out his phone to set on the table by his bed, he found a small light flashing atop it. His messages had always been empty apart from work, and he told himself that Merle was his boss anyways, so it still counted.

But the text of ‘ **Do you even own casual clothes suited for a BBQ--kids might kick your ass if you don’t.** ’ he received definitely isn’t professional.

And neither is the ‘ **I’ll own casual casual clothing the same day you dress your age.** ’ he sent back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im excited for next chapter. taako was here shortly, but next we get way more of him and also fucking FINALLY the blupjeans.
> 
> if you'd like to hang out my writing tumblr is @ludella. i love talking in comments and kudos are appreciated!


	5. Month 2 - Comfort Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is late, i just started my new job and it's killing me. i'll be better on updating my other fic, it's taagnus, go check it out.
> 
> honestly this is one of my favorite fics to write. it's just very fun.
> 
> fair warning, there is alcohol in this chapter, but it isn't severe. just mentions of people being tipsy and drunk.

When the day of the barbecue rolled around, John had ended up caving in and made an effort to get more ‘casual clothing.’ Merle sent him incessant messages at least once a day reminding him to look normal, saying he would kick his ass if he wore anything that buttoned all the way down. He returned the small banter each time, which, in retrospect, was probably the only reason Merle continued pestering him.

Word about him attending had spread fast, and Sloane was the first to smile at him when he came into work the next day. Naturally, Hurley came in later and tried to give him a reassuring fist bump.

He never knew these people took so much stock in his life and interactions with them.

Today, their only part-timer, Barry, was working. John appreciated the pragmatic and calculated perspective Barry offered that the store seemed to lack entirely with its overly emotional ties. They were able to have ongoing conversations about whatever he was researching at the university he worked at or John’s previous work. As soon as his girlfriend so much as texted him, though, he was as good as talking to a pile of mud.

How these people could stand to have so many irresponsible emotions, John would never understand.

Merle texted him when he got home from work asking if he needed a ride to the Burnsides’ place. Just to be sure, John checked the printed out fantasy Google Maps sheet (because it was easier than looking at his phone, thank you) and decided he could walk just fine. No one lived too far apart from anyone else in this town anyways.

Future John would likely question what possessed him to actually take this event seriously--or rather, not seriously, for the first time in his life. He was being serious about being casual, as much as one could be. Unfortunately, John didn’t have much experience with anything like this, and all efforts to be simple and easy-going were entirely calculated and forced. He didn’t have anything like ‘casual clothes’ besides a non-white button down shirt and a singular pair of khaki pants. What’s worse was knowing Merle would notice everything that was off about him, the bastard. 

When he finally arrived at the Burnsides’ house, the only indication he was at the right place was aforementioned dwarf sitting outside on the porch step with his phone in his hand. John’s eye twitched when he saw him wearing a graphic tee with the sleeves cut, pink camo cargo shorts, and sandals. It was irritating how natural he was at being laidback, though he’d already gotten idea from how his work clothes consisted of pink hawaiian shirts, blue hawaiian shirts, and four different Jimothy Buffet tees.

Merle lifted his head from his phone when John approached and grinned wide, hopping up on his feet. “Shoulda known you’d get here exactly when I told you,” he laughed. Now closer, John could see his shirt was actually an ad for ‘Sizzlin’ it Up!’, a show he’d seen momentarily while the TV was left on in the break room at the office.

“I believe people typically praise their employees for punctuality.”

“Aw, shut it,” he groaned with a wave of his hand, “none of that matters and you know it. I have about as much authority in that place as a duck over a flock of geese. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to everybody, they’re all in the backyard.”

John could hear the chatter of people gathered from the front and as they walked back past the driveway, it only got louder. That was when John realized just how many people he had met through the store alone, and how many more there were to go. Frankly, it was terrifying.

He heard Julia call for him first. “Oh, he actually came! Hey, John!”

The average salary of a carpenter wasn’t common knowledge, but given he knew how much Julia made at Bougainvillea, it must be impressive enough to afford this place. The yard was of a good size, removed from a field behind their house with a quaint white fence. Magnus had two grills going, though they seemed completely out of his control as Taako and what appeared to be another Taako took control of both operations. Instead he stood nearby, chatting with Kravitz and Angus.

John heard Killian before he saw her, and when he did, she was with a dragonborn woman high up on her shoulders and laughing together. He figured she must’ve been Carey, the infamous fiancee whom she could not speak enough about. With them were Sloane and Hurley, linked arm in arm as they clapped and cheered the two on. Not too far off was a group John only recognized one person out of, that being Barry as he stood and spoke with a human woman and a middle aged gnome. Before he could even start thinking of who they might be, Merle tugged on his elbow and began pulling him into the fray.

It’s like a dream sequence. John felt as if he was simply watching his life from the outside as Merle and Julia seamlessly folded him into conversation with Magnus and Kravitz. At some point, Taako and the woman who was evidently his sister, Lup, joined in, livening up the scene with flashy shows of delivering food to each other across the yard. Eventually it just turned into a game of who could use the cooler looking spell to send a bratwurst into the air without it getting cold when it came down. 

He left conversations when Merle did, as the dwarf remained at his hip and filled the space in between meeting people with easy conversation. “You ever had conjured food?”

John shook his head. “Not that I know of--is it different?”

“Nah, but people say it does to make the story cooler!” Merle barked merrily, and John smiled as well.

“Merle, bring the newb over here!” Killian’s voice called, and they were off again.

John spent the next hour or so making rounds about the yard speaking with everyone there with the help of Merle leading most conversations. When food actually got to them, people began sitting at small tables around the yard and settling down. Merle was approaching him with two plates full of food just as he realized there would not be enough seats for everyone.

“I’ll sit on the grass, no plant’s ever hurt me before,” Merle shrugged easily, “John, there’s probably a seat over by Barry--”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll join you.”

Future and Past John alike would likely be mortified to see him now, wearing (slightly) casual clothing, sitting on the grass at a friendly barbecue and eating off a paper plate while making conversation with a hippie dwarf. It wasn’t like him at all--in fact, this was the mundanity and banal lifestyle he hated more than anything.

Oftentimes John at the office, he overheard his coworkers speaking together about meeting up, visiting each other, and other bland, common activities. He had looked down on them at the time, as if he was doing anything more interesting when he got home at night and read until he fell asleep and went to work the next day. He didn’t think that trite happiness was worth anything; it could be found anywhere in most people’s lives. That wasn’t where the interest or spice of life he was looking for existed.

Even now, he still doubted it was any type of life he wanted to live personally--but he could see how people appreciated it. This was… nice. The sun was just about to set and the yard was alive with conversation and laughter. These people all invited him here because they wanted to meet and actually spend time with him, and that fact alone was still astonishing in and of itself. And Merle…

“I will admit,” John spoke up, earning the other’s attention, “when you said everyone at the shop was friends with you, I had my doubts.”

“Hey, fuck you, asshole!” Merle laughed easily, waving a plastic fork in his direction. “I bet you also doubted they wanted to include you on that whole friendship deal too, huh?”

John absentmindedly started pushing the remainder of the food on his plate around with his fork while averting his eyes to the scene ahead. Lup was currently arm wrestling Angus, groaning loudly as she pretended to lose and the child was given a loud holler and high five from Taako. Killian then nearly knocked Barry over to sit down in Lup’s place, slamming her elbow down to challenge him to a match as well. While everyone was busy watching, Sloane caught John’s eye and sent him a friendly smile and a wave before pointing at the others and laughing.

He smiled back, surprisingly. “Suppose I did.”

Once everyone finished eating, people began to spread out again and allowed John and Merle to get up, working their way back into the crowd. John actually took it upon himself to return to Davenport’s side and continue a conversation they were having earlier while Merle, still at his hip, joked with Lucretia. She only seemed to laugh when he was around, anyways.

It didn’t take long for there to be another interruption. Magnus clapped his hands a few times to get everyone’s attention, and when it didn’t work, Julia called out for quiet. She easily received more compliance than her husband, who spoke up after her.

“I’m glad everyone’s having a great time--but me and Julia actually got everyone here to announce something…”

Immediately, Carey gasped loudly and slapped Barry who was sitting next to her. He grabbed for Lucretia’s hand and they grinned at each other knowingly.

After a dramatic pause, Julia finally stepped forward. “I’m pregnant!”

The yard erupted in a din of excited cheers, whooping and hollering in no short amount. A few even began to cry, and once the tears started to fall, others pulled out their wallets and exchanged dollar bills as bets were settled. The already lively party was cranked up to a ten, and John watched the event with the quiet fascination of a tourist in a zoo.

Merle was notably quiet among the rest. John was about to question him when the dwarf started clapping loudly and stepped forward. “Time to break out the booze and start toasting!” he shouted, receiving another round of yells from the rest.

Merle left John for the first time that evening to retreat into Magnus’s house, and Lucretia nudged John’s arm to get his attention. “He’s getting choked up, the old man. He’s always like this with those two,” she nodded towards the happy couple with a smile. “Magnus is like a son to him.”

He nodded to make up for a loss of words.

John had seen Merle laugh and goof off at work all the time, and this type of behavior should be unusual. By the way he was hiding himself away in the house with excuses, it probably was unusual to everyone else if he was going to certain lengths to cover it. But for John, his attitude now was not new. He saw it once before, and only once, when he explained the significance of building arrangements for those centered around hanahaki. Talk about emotions others could not understand without the experience.

A story he was reluctant to tell and quickly played off.

Slowly, the pieces were beginning to come into place for a puzzle John didn’t realize he was working to fill.

Merle returned shortly with a wide smile and two bottles of champagne in one hand, two bottles he didn’t recognize in the other. John watched him more closely this time as he poured out drinks for everyone who brought them to him. He was the last to take a solo cup full of champagne and remained by Merle’s side once everyone was served.

“A toast!” the dwarf shouted, raising his cup. “To the long awaited to-be parents, and baby Burnsides!”

Everyone, including Angus with his orange juice, lifted their cups and tapped them against one another’s before drinking.

Taako immediately hopped up to grab one of the bottles and began refilling his and whoever’s cups. He hoisted his drink in the air. “To modern medicine!” he yelled, just in time for Lup to fill in, “and magic!” They all drank again.

When another person lifted their drink to say something, John refilled his own cup with more champagne.

In retrospect, that was probably where John made his first mistake.

By the time everyone who wanted to speak had finished, they emptied out the champagne twice over and had to open the unlabeled bottles Merle brought out. His second mistake came when he acknowledged Merle’s cousins were known for making dwarven moonshine and he continued to drink alongside everyone else.

With just enough alcohol in his system to affect him, John wandered away from Merle and made conversation with the other partygoers familiarly. He congratulated Julia and Magnus personally, making sure to study the to-be father as discreetly as possible while doing so. The two were very obviously in love with each other, and they didn’t seem new to strife in their relationship--it was all things he would have to consider the day after when he was in a more sober state of mind.

That being said, John was by no means drunk--simply on par with everyone’s regular social interaction levels. Unfortunately, they all now were far beyond him, and while John was finally able to converse normally without restraint or awkward tension, a few of the adults were drinking themselves into a little more than friendly. 

Surprisingly, Kravitz was one of them. The man seemed the most responsible out of everybody here and definitely the most similar to himself, thus seeing him laugh loudly and become unsteady on his feet while he talked with Lup was rather odd.

“Charming, ain’t he?” Taako startled John as he suddenly appeared beside him, coolly sipping a cup of orange juice. “We either have parties at my place or Mags’s, and we made a deal one of us has to stay sober for Angus at all times. I get trashed at our place, he gets Magnus’s.” He ‘tsk’d, but was smiling.

“You two are responsible parents then,” John offered and smiled when Taako’s face scrunched up.

“Ugh, save the parent talk for Maglia, Julignus, whatever duo, please. Anyways, I wanted to ask you somethin’, Johnny boy.” He turned to John and bumped the rim of his cup into his chest. “You’ve seen my show, yeah?”

John waited for him to continue.

“Sizzlin’ it Up? With Taako, y’know, me?”

Feeling a sudden wave of nausea that passed quickly, John nodded slowly. “Oh, right, from Merle’s shirt.”

“ _ That’s _ how you know it?! Whatever!” Despite his words, Taako laughed, and for lack of any other response, John chuckled as well. “I thought it was weird you didn’t react when we met--must be an age thing.”

“Merle seems to be a fan.”

His pretty face crinkled up in an unattractive snort. “That’s because he’s intent on acting like our dad-- _ all _ of us. Hell, watch your back, he might start trying to take you out to father-son lunch dates, too!” He laughed, but quieted and gave John a good hard look over the rim of his cup. His eyes narrowed. “Or maybe just… no, never mind.”

John didn’t think anything of his ramblings, shrugging and carrying on sipping the water he had in his hand. “He’s weird, but not to that degree--in fact, he’s probably just trying to show he cares about you.”

_ An expression of genuine emotions and feelings without words. _

A flash of flowers being folded on top of each other in rough hands played through his mind, and John made a mental note to evaluate it later on. Slowly, he was understanding this odd creature that had come into his life, bit by bit. He glanced over at where Merle was currently, playing some game with Davenport and Barry with a deck of cards that was just tye-dye enough to know it belonged to him.

Taako was staring at him with an unreadable expression when he finally returned to their conversation. The elf raised his eyebrows. “If you really wanna study him so bad, you should ask about his real children--that’ll give you an entire textbook’s worth.”

John considered the option seriously, watching his drink swirl in his cup as he turned it about absentmindedly. “That might be a good idea,” he murmured to no one in particular, but figured Taako had heard by the way his eyes widened.

“You… huh, sure,” he muttered, downing the rest of his juice back as if it actually was alcohol and throwing the cup onto a nearby table. “Let’s go see what they’re up to, huh?”

John allowed himself to be pulled along by the near stranger. There wasn’t any reason not to, but knowing how he appeared, he deposited his nearly empty cup on a table on their way over and straightened himself out before joining the rest. Davenport was shuffling the deck when they approached.

“Hey, there you are, John!” Merle waved him over to sit next to him, which John did without a second thought. Davenport was on the other side of the table with Carey sitting next to him, Killian on the other side of Merle. Taako took a seat beside her. “Want me to deal you in? Dunno what yet, but probably something!”

Davenport nodded in agreement while making a bridge with the cards. “Merle says you’ve got some interesting stories we ought to be hearing about.”

For some reason that was it.

Out of nowhere, it all came down. 

He could see the number of people circled around the table chatting casually and laughing, with the hum of conversation from others behind them. People he just met tonight engaged him easily, as if all of this was natural--as if he belonged here.

He was brought back to the pristine, monochrome office, able to hear the talk of others but always isolated by choice. Now he had multiple pairs of eyes on him at once, and the openness and simplicity with which they made contact with him was so disturbingly foreign that, in his slightly off kilter state, made John’s stomach churn.

This hadn’t been a mistake. But it wasn’t right.

He waited for a dizzy spell to pass before speaking. “Actually… it’s probably about time I started heading home.”

Merle stared at him blankly then looked up at the sky, as if he hadn’t noticed it was there at all. By now the sun had already set beyond the horizon and the only light filling the yard was from inside the house and the moon up top. “Shit, it’s already this late? Hold on, I’ll go with you; give me a minute.”

While Merle jumped up from his seat and ran around the yard, the others at the table merely wished John their good nights, relieving the fear that they may have noticed something was up. “It was nice getting to know you, John,” Davenport smiled, offering his hand for a shake which John met halfway. “There’s too many young ones coming by these days, it’s nice to meet an older fellow who appreciates conversation!" 

John stood from the table and gave the group a small wave. “You too, it was nice meeting you.”

After that, it was just a race to find Merle. While he was by no means drunk (definitely nowhere near Kravitz, now sitting in Taako’s lap like a child across the yard) he still felt unsteady enough to be uncomfortable with all of this sudden attention and friendliness. He didn’t even think about how odd it was that Merle was his safeguard of all people, though the dwarf  _ was _ the one to convince him to come, introduce him to everyone, keep him engaged…

Shit, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been doing. John let a wave of both guilt and shame wash over him, unsure if he felt like a child being babysat or a new dog being shown off around the neighborhood. Neither were positive feelings, but it didn’t change the fact that Merle was his ticket out of here.

Sure enough, he was talking with Magnus and Julia, the three of them grinning and laughing like the old friends they were. If he had been in a regular state of mind, John would have simply waited for them to finish conversation. Now, though, he walked up casually and joined in at Merle’s side.

Fortunately no one thought anything strange of it. “John, Merle said you needed to leave, I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more!” Julia said, hand tight in her husband’s or he knew she would have tried to hug him.

“It’s alright, I’ll still be at work tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you two later,” Merle filled in and finally ended the conversation, much to John’s relief. “Julia, you tell me when you start needing time off from work, okay?”

“I’m only a few weeks along, old man!”

He laughed, but they were already walking away and towards the driveway they entered on. John followed after him dutifully, and though they had been outside the entire afternoon and evening, it felt like a breath of fresh air to be free of the backyard. He stumbled slightly on the curve at the end of the driveway before the sidewalk, and he worried Merle noticed until he saw the dwarf struggling to walk in a straight line ahead of him.

John snickered but tried to hide it as soon as Merle glanced back at him, grinning widely. “Don’t say a word, Mr. Social Butterfly, I saw you in there.”

“And I see you right now--it’s pathetic, really.” Merle hung back enough to playfully punch his hip, being the easiest thing to reach. His height never came much into conversation, but it was awfully fun to take note of in moments like this--especially when John himself was tall for a human.

“By the way, where the hell is your place?”

“Oh,” John stopped, fumbling with his pockets before he pulled out the crumpled fantasy Google Maps page he printed earlier. He didn’t bother excusing himself and handed it to Merle only for the dwarf to take one look and let out a loud laugh, nearly doubling over himself. “Don’t get too full of yourself, you’re just as old as I am.”

“I know,” Merle said through peals of laughter, “that’s why I do the exact same thing! And those bastards have the nerve to make fun of me for it.”

The rest of the evening went more smoothly than expected. Albeit all they did was walk twenty minutes towards his home while exchanging stories displaying their age back and forth. They’re all things John didn’t acknowledge before were signs of being old, seeing as he wasn’t too in touch with young people to know the difference beforehand. He would talk about his routines and every now and then Merle would start laughing uncontrollably, nodding his head in understanding when he said something that gave himself away. John couldn’t help but chuckle with him, realizing how ridiculous the two of them sounded.

Here he was, tipsy, walking home from a barbecue, being led by a drunk dwarf. A lot had changed in the short span of two months.

“Your friends are nice,” John said once they returned to the topic of the party they left and what everyone was doing.

Merle hummed contentedly. “So are yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah; they’re your friends too, bud.”

John couldn’t say why the idea made him feel… flustered? Caught off-guard, for sure, but he didn’t bother trying to deny it. ‘Friends’ was not a term he would use for them--or use at all in general, but the concept wasn’t so difficult to conceive after tonight.

At last, they arrived at his home, and Merle whistled in appreciation when John pointed it out. “Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you only needed a job for fun,” he muttered, paraphrasing words John definitely hadn’t used.

“You could come in for a moment before heading back,” John offered as he unlocked his front door. Part of him simply didn’t want to leave Merle at the porch as if he was being dropped off from a date. Merle agreed and followed him inside.

He couldn’t remember the last time a guest had ever been in his house, if any ever had at all. It wasn’t that the place was messy or anything--quite the opposite, as John kept his home cleaned immaculately. All around each room were small decorations and mementos of the places he visited when he was at a loss for what to do with his life, not reminders of fun memories as many might take souvenirs to be, but rather painful to look at. Even so, Merle seemed fascinated with the entire place, walking around the foyer and living room slowly to appreciate it.

It was odd seeing somebody else in his home. Due to the alcohol in his body, Merle didn’t seem intrusive or threatening whereas any other person would be ushered out as quickly as possible. “Amazed?” John asked semi-jokingly while removing his shoes and setting his phone on the table by the door.

Merle didn’t answer immediately, still surveying his surroundings. “Kinda… lonely, I dunno. Sorry, ignore this drunk geezer, that was rude!” He tried to laugh it off, but his expression was unnatural.

“No, you’re right.” John followed him into the living room which opened into a dining room and kitchen, the space open and vast. On the counter was the same vase he had held the first bouquet of flowers he got for retirement for far too long. He had since emptied them, but left the glass where it stood as another memento of sorts. “It’s been like this for years, and it’s why I wanted to keep myself working and out of here.”

There was no reason for him to tell Merle any of this. He shouldn’t be at all, probably, and yet here he was, voicing thoughts that never once left his mouth before.

“The same reason I traveled after retiring; I hate this place. I would bring things, souvenirs or furniture, from wherever I went, but none of it changed anything.”

He would regret this later, for what reason, he wasn’t sure, but a reason all the same. Merle was the one person he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, and here he was offering up his life’s insecurity for him to use as he pleased. It was dangerous. It was stupid and foolish and that feeling of sudden alertness he’d had at the party resurfaced at once like bile in his throat, threatening to fill his head more than anything.

Just as he was about to suggest Merle leave, the dwarf spoke. “We have a lot of flowers we throw out once they begin wilting and aren’t good to be sold,” he said, explaining something John already knew from working more than a single day at the store. “It’d be easy to throw them together and have you bring home--probably spruce the place up a bit, don’t you think?” As he spoke, Merle turned to face him, not quite smiling but the hint of it was present beneath his beard and in his soft eyes.

There wasn’t running away from something in his own house.

John stared at Merle in open surprise, waiting out the moment. There wasn’t one concrete emotion in his head he could pin down for just a second to identify, though he felt something like fear and relief battling it out in his chest. His stomach lost all sense of direction, moving between jumping into his throat and falling to his feet repeatedly. It’s the alcohol, he told himself, despite all the water he had drunk and the long walk it took to get home. That’s all it was.

After an hour in his head (equivalent to five seconds outside of it), John blinked as he finally picked one feeling out. Confusion.

“...why?”

“Well, it’s simple, ain’t it?” Merle’s reply came easily and quickly. “If you haven’t gotten sick of seein’ em yet, arrangements would add a ton of color to this dreary place. Course, you’d have to change them out since they’ll die quickly, but that’s easy. Might remind you of stuff like tonight.”

For a good couple moments, John thought Merle was offering the flowers as a token of their own relationship before realizing he meant the entire party and everybody there. Flowers could never just be simple plants with Merle, always symbols and metaphors for things John wasn’t capable of comprehending.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

It quite possibly could.

Nonetheless, John agreed, and within moments of chatting about his-- _ their _ friends, Merle eventually left with a promise to see John at work the day following. He returned the sentiment thoughtlessly and was left to his empty house, more impeding and haunting than ever.

There was no use in doing anything else that night, not since his mind was already so full and the physical exhaustion of being out all day finally caught up to him. He laid in bed merely staring up at the ceiling, replaying the events of the afternoon and evening in his head. Merle waiting for him outside, Julia rushing to greet him, Kravitz and Magnus playing a card game, Lup loudly planting kisses on Barry’s face, Lucretia offering Taako a solemn high five returned with tenfold enthuse.

When he finally managed to fall asleep that night, John thought of Merle’s face while creating the hanahaki arrangement, then Julia and Magnus and what their relationship may have been like before all of this.

He couldn’t understand either.

He couldn’t understand a single thing that had happened to him today, and yet he wasn’t as afraid as he should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julia gets pregnant fast bc there’s magic to make the embryo stay ok shut up it's only been a few weeks.
> 
> i'll have the next chapter up... sometime. month 3 should actually only take one chapter, woohoo!!! and FUCK am i excited to get there. this is the last 'exposition' chapter before we really get the fuck in there.


	6. Month 3 - Self Centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, like i said, work has been a bitch. i'm just doin this when i can and i hope this one doesn't seem too rushed. i was just trying to get to the end of this chapter, and i cannot wait to write next chapter since it has one of the scenes i've been planning since the beginning

John was getting better at things he didn’t even know he needed work on in the past three months.

Slowly, he was becoming more social with the coworkers he shared the most time with. He allowed Julia to hug him from time to time, talked with Sloane for hours on end, and listened to Barry prattle on about his and Lup’s current research. They were all nice people, that went without saying--and he was slowly learning to accept that they saw good in him as well. Work had never been a chore, but he was almost looking for to it these days.

Merle was another case entirely. Although John refused to download whatever social media he was pestered about, Merle texted him nearly every day with updates about the store, his hobbies, or anything mildly significant. During the party, John had offhandedly mentioned his distaste for Merle’s bright hawaiian shirts to Julia, and now he received photos of every single one Merle passed by which was, both unfortunately and remarkably, many.

“ **If you send me another picture of these horrendous shirts,** ” John texted with his phone beneath the counter while he worked, “ **I will personally see to the firey destruction of each one of them.** ”

“ **Fuckin’ try, wimpy office boy.** ”

“ **You don’t need strength to start a fire** .”

“ **You do to light the matches. Checkmate.** ”

“John!” He looked up as his name was called and slipped his phone back into his pocket, Barry peeking out from the plastic curtains separating the work room. “Do you know if we have any cyclamen--purple, and if we do can you bring it to me?”

John clicked his tongue and stepped out from behind the counter to search through the bins of flowers they kept lined against the far wall. Ever since encountering the great mystery that was Merle and his emotions, remembering flower names had become the work of children. Most of the knowledge he had gained was from experience alone here in the shop, but he would be lying to say he didn’t study outside of work just to be more prepared when he was inevitably asked for something.

It only took John a few moments before he found the case he needed and plucked a single stalk holding a few of the flowers on it.

“I thought Merle was coming in later to finish the remaining arrangements?” John asked as he walked back to the other room, holding the flowers out for Barry to take. He raised a brow as he watched Barry wrap them in simple tissue paper and puts it in his incredibly professional backpack with a few others.

“He is, these are for Lup, though.” With the flowers squared away and just barely sticking out of his bag, Barry patted the pack lightly and beamed. “She and I are really making headway on our work, recently. It’s phenomenal the things I wouldn’t even think to try without her!”

John tried to smile politely in response to his raving. It appeared that everyone who worked here besides himself and Merle was completely enamored with their respective partners. The only explanation he could come up with was the idea of a flower shop being an overly romantic job to consider in the first place, and it likely appealed to their more emotional sides. Out of all of them, Sloane was the most reserved and her girlfriend was the one to visit most often. Barry was absolutely the worst when it came to his own girlfriend, and the one time she stopped by last month, she had all but pulled Barry into her arms from the other side of the counter. 

From the way he described how they worked together (Barry mostly spoke of their dynamic and ideas rather than the work itself, given it was ‘classified’), John was sure she was a nice and hard working girl.

From their displays of affection and what little he had spoken to her at the barbecue, he was only somewhat horrified.

They walked back to the front of the store together, and John was prepared to return to his studying (a new book “suddenly appeared” behind the counter the other day) when the bell to the front door rang. Barry waved at Merle as he entered and the dwarf clicked his tongue and finger-gunned at him. “What’s up, my boys?”

“Nothing new here, boss,” Barry nodded.

Instead of giving a greeting, John’s face crinkled as Merle approached the counter. It was involuntary at the sight of his clothing. “You are dreadful,” he said in disgust, though a smile threatened to play at his lips.

From the smile that rose to his face, he suspected Merle had anticipated his reaction--wanted it, really.

The dwarf slowly turned in a circle with his arms out to show off the outfit he was wearing, including the same tacky, bright blue island button-down with orange dolphins patterned on it. Underneath was another bright pink tee with loopy writing which read ‘I am a Bible Believin’ Prayer Prayin’ Faith Walkin’ Heart Blessin’ Pantecostal Girl.’

“What, sue me for expressing myself in my own store!” Merle gasped, pretending to be offended with a hand over his heart. 

“You could do so without wearing such visually  _ offensive _ clothing.”

“Next time I’ll just come to work shirtless.”

“Pray that no one misplaces any poison ivy anywhere.”

Barry finally spoke up and said, “I am  _ begging _ the two of you to stop.”

Although the request immediately made John self-conscious, the florist laughed easily. “C’mon, I promised you some flower arranging lessons and we have got some work to do.”

Walking back with Merle was all he could do to distract himself from thinking about how the two of them were becoming… friendlier than expected. Ever since the barbecue at the Burnsides’ place, they were steadily talking more and more. Barry was taking an increasing amount of work off while his and Lup’s main experiments gained speed, and John picked up the hours that he left behind. Many shifts ended up just being the two of them together while Killian came in and out from time to time.

The scariest part was how John didn’t mind. Spending time with Merle at work wasn’t boring, and he was able to keep interested while they talked or went over flower arrangements. “Fun” was a big word, and not something he had used specifically, but if John was capable of anything close to it, Merle was skirting that line.

The dwarf was undeniably goofy, and some of his-- _ their _ friends had stopped in from time to time and proved the fact moreso. When Taako and Magnus were around, dick jokes and innuendos flew across the board. But with Killian and Julia, he listened more than he talked. With Sloane, he was more introspective yet managed to make the half-elf laugh.

John didn’t know where he fell, and the fact he had yet to figure out Merle’s motives and personality was the only ambition he had these days. 

When Merle was with John he was… everything all at once, somehow.

“Take your pick,” Merle said, fanning out a pile of order forms on the table in front of John, “we’ve got a ton to get through today and you’ve  _ gotta _ be getting close to ready.”

As John read through the papers he mumbled, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Wedding table centerpiece, casket spray, birthday, birthday, ‘just cause’, get well soon, anniversary. It was only 3pm, so they would have time to get through the majority today, though John had no doubt Merle would end up staying later than necessary if needed. The last few times, John had even stayed with him, for reasons he had yet to determine.

“Get well, then,” he decided, picking the paper off from the table and going through the finer details on his own.

An arrangement for a recently hospitalized young woman, from her children and husband. Specifications were only to include yellow daffodils. Given she was married, he figured it wasn’t hanahaki, at the very least. The orders for arrangements centered around the curse were at a current all time high, and John didn’t bother trying to understand Merle’s work on ‘unrequited love’ and ‘fatal passion.’

“Oh, this one--I’ll take care of this and just talk through it, this one’s good.” Merle promptly sweeped the other forms into one stack and slapped them into a messy pile that John immediately picked up and straightened. “The giveaway here is daffodils and hospitals--why do you think they would ask for those?”

John blinked, raising a brow in confusion. “She likes daffodils?”

Merle scoffed and disappeared to the front of the store for a few moments, returning with a number of different flowers in his arms. “What do you think of when you see daffodils, dummy?”

Flowers, John wanted to say. Work. Merle held out a few of the flower for him to hold and twirl absently in his hand. In all honesty, he felt… not much while looking at them. They were bright yellow. They were small. Merle watched him expectantly, and John said the first thing he could come up with. “The… spring?”

“There you go,” Merle nodded. “Hospitals are cramped, scary, and boring--there’s no feeling there at all. This is something to brighten the room up, to make it easier to stand and  _ add _ feeling. And so the flowers we would use should be?”

He pointed at John as a cue to answer. “Also bright colors?”

“Yep.” Finally, Merle took the flowers back from him and set them all on the table. With him, he brought back primarily orange roses, baby’s breath, and green trick dianthus. He pulled a glass vase from one of the shelves surrounding the room and began his work without delay.

John had gotten used to watching Merle do his job, and it was becoming something of a performance more than anything. He studied which flowers Merle picked up first, how long he waited before placing them, how he moved them around, and what ‘mistakes’ he corrected when bunched them together. Merle had once commented it was almost concerning how intently John watched it, but he didn’t much mind.

Daffodil, daffodil, baby’s breath--no, dianthus--no, an orange rose. Then baby’s breath, then another daffodil--no, dianthus _ now _ . He thought long and hard, trying to comprehend the relevance of which flower went where and what kind of pattern he was trying to come up with. 

“Say, Merle,” John spoke up once the vase was halfway full of flowers. “You could tell the customer’s intentions off of so little information, right?”

“Yeah, not a real thinker when you’ve been doin’ it this long,” he replied easily.

“Can you make arrangements based off of people specifically?”

The question stopped Merle, and his hands stilled where they hovered in the air with roses in each hand. His brows furrowed together and he looked up, not at John, but simply thinking. “I’ve never thought of it that way… flowers are usually given for an occasion--based off of a thought, not just a person.”

That wasn’t a satisfying answer. “If I asked you right now to make an arrangement based off of me, would you be able to?”

This time, Merle scrunched his eyes closed and hummed loudly in consideration. His head swayed back and forth as if he couldn’t make a decision. “No?” he said, quirking one eye open. “Perhaps I could make one based off a  _ feeling _ towards you, but not you as a person.” He lifted one of the roses in his hands and pointed it in John’s direction, finally having decided on a clear cut answer. “Flower arrangements are  _ thoughts _ , not ideas. If a person is just a mash-up of other people’s thoughts of them, then it would take hundreds to really get a person down with just arrangements.”

John considered him with a heavy gaze, letting the weight of his words sit in the air for a few moments before continuing. “Not all people’s feelings are as remarkable or significant enough to be considered a full thought, though.”

“Not all people’s,” Merle agreed. He finally returned to his work, arranging the roses in his hands together before placing them in between sprigs of baby’s breath in the vase. He allowed silence to reign over the moment just until he finished piecing every flower together and the arrangement was finished.

As he tugged on flowers and shifted them into more agreeable positions, he glanced up at John with a smile and a tricky twinkle in his eye.

“I like to think I know you, though, John.”

‘You don’t,’ he immediately wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

With a bright yellow ribbon tied around the center of the vase, Merle tagged the arrangement and left to the freezer to put it away. Being left in the room by himself for however long the few seconds last changed the atmosphere entirely, and he felt suddenly claustrophobic. John didn’t even realize he was gripping the edge of the table so tightly until his eyes fell to see his bright knuckles.

There was something akin to nervousness pacing between his ears, and it buzzed beneath the skin of his face in an itch he couldn’t scratch. Shame prickled at his ears and he could feel it seeping into his bones at the very thought of Merle’s words. Know? Merle  _ knew _ him? John couldn’t even say he knew himself very well, and yet this man he knew for not even three months believe he had some better idea, as if it was easy to just… think about people.

The dwarf returned then, and John immediately let go of the table. He watched closely as Merle picked up the stack of papers once again. “Let’s see… I guess we’ll get started on that wedding next--”

“I’ll switch with Barry; I still have more to learn.”

John didn’t give Merle a chance to dispute before he walked briskly out of the work room and back to the counter. He couldn’t even remember what words or excuse he gave to Barry for the man to agree and relieve the counter to him. Whatever it was had been enough to pass without suspicion, and thankfully, Merle didn’t question his sudden departure. The rest of the afternoon and evening proceeded the same way, as Barry and Merle kept busy in the back making arrangements and John was left with his books and the occasional customer to speak with. The extended time to himself was today’s only saving grace.

Once Barry left later on, Merle returned to the front for a while to chat with both John and whatever customers came in and out. It was only with a great amount of effort that John was able to hold a steady conversation until he had to leave, and once the time came, he all but darted from the store.

Had he been any younger, he would have run all the way home.

It had been such a foolish oversight on his part.

John realized too late he had left too quickly to remember his own keys, and he fumbled when retrieving his back-up from a potted plant outside the front door. He couldn’t move fast enough to just be alone. When he finally got inside, John immediately stripped his clothes on the way upstairs to his room.  

Despite his fifteen-minute-clean-up-morning-strict-routine, he decided to take a shower until the hot water all but scalded his skin. He washed himself thoroughly, going through more soap in a few minutes than he usually would in a week. It felt like he had to wash the feeling of Merle’s eyes off of his skin, though he knew it went much farther beyond the surface than that.

Where did he change? At what point did he give himself up? The texting? The banter? Few had approached him from his outward appearance alone, and now someone was trying to become even closer than he could even  _ consider _ allowing--naturally, the person he could not figure out for the life of him.

It only added another puzzle to the never-ending list of mysteries Merle was made up of; how could he have seen so much of John, while John knew so little about both Merle and himself?

His mind returned to their conversation mere hours ago. If people were comprised only of the thoughts people had of them, surely an image of Merle from John’s perspective would be nothing but chaotic. There were no patterns, no correlations, and no point in even trying to understand how he worked or what he was doing. He wouldn’t even include any kind of vase in the arrangements--just hundreds of contradicting, different flowers, thrown on the ground in a disarray.

John wiped his face with his hands and covered his eyes, allowing the water to wash over his head entirely until he felt he would drown.

The worst part was he couldn’t even word what parts of Merle had him so stumped.

If anything, the fact that he was confused at all about this florist was the most mysterious part. John’s mind ran itself in circles and loops trying to pin down what it was that bugged him so and came up blank every time. Never had he been this frustrated, and the irritated burn in his chest prompted him to leave the shower suddenly without even washing the suds off of his body.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he strode through his house in long steps as if somebody was still watching his every move. After being disregarded for so many years, the idea of anyone paying attention to him was so foreign; being evaluated and  _ known _ was even worse.

He snatched up a book he had taken home from work one day, one of the first he read through completely, and began at the beginning once again.

If flower arrangements were a reflection of a person’s feelings, then the best way to understand a florist was to study his work. There was something he was missing, and John was determined to read Merle completely before the dwarf figured him out first. He opened up the first page and settled himself into bed with his back pressed up against the headboard.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep that night.

John was never one for strict bedtimes or even caring when he went to sleep, given he only did once he had nothing else to do that night which was a common event. Given the foggy head and sore throat he woke up with, John figured it must have been late enough to make himself sick, having not put on any clothes and slept the entire night in just a towel. There was no way he would call in today though, not when he had been studying all night for the test that was interacting with Merle on a regular day to day basis.

John woke to find his bed occupied by four objects other than himself. The first was the book he had been reading, and thankfully, he had slid his finger between the pages he was on before he passed out. Secondly was the ballpoint pen he had been using to take notes in the margins of the book and outline certain passages. Third was the towel, still precariously wrapped around his waist.

Fourth and most insignificantly, was a pair of two miniscule, purple vervain flowers on the pillow by his head.

John passed the flowers off as cling-ons from work and brushed them aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is important im so excited. thanks for stickin' with me!


	7. Month 4 - Good Grade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN DYING TO GET TO FOR AGES there's no way i'll be able to keep chapters a week apart now. I'm soooo glad we got here. it feels like forever
> 
> thanks for hanging with me so long until we finally got to the fucking point of this fic lmfao
> 
> warnings: there is slight emetophobia in this chapter? no vomit, but mentions of it, and gets a little graphic during some scenes. just lots of coughing, pain, and slight ickies.

The third month passed with ease John never expected. The shop continued to do well, his relationship with his coworkers was growing more comfortable, and John wasn’t spending every night thinking about how bored he was anymore. They were all changes he had to cultivate individually and carefully, especially in himself, and the realization that he was becoming happier was a slow one. When he discovered it, John wasn’t disturbed, simply thinking ‘ah, that makes sense’ more than anything else.

These days, he had a place to go where he actually existed to the people there. Somewhere he had… an identity, as odd as it was--an identity that someone besides himself acknowledged. John never knew he once craved something as pitiful as validation, but low and behold, every time the word ‘friend’ was dropped in conversation, he couldn’t help but slightly pick up. It helped that as Merle promised, he had been sending home vases of slightly-wilted flowers they couldn’t sell to liven up his home. Now he even returned to a brighter, more lively house.

Today was running a regular slow pace with only John, Merle, and Julia in today. At just a bit under ten weeks pregnant, Julia’s already plush belly had begun to extend more outwards just the tiniest bit. Merle nearly ran himself mad arguing with her about lifting heavy boxes or standing on her feet for too long. She’d agreed to a chair at the very most and now sat on a high seat behind the counter, humming while she knitted in a picture of perfect maternity. Magnus cried the last time he came in and saw her, despite the fact she was probably no different at home.

The moment was immediately crushed when the door slammed open, the chime of the bell unable to be heard over the crash of the door into the window behind it. John heard Merle curse from the back room, and the dwarf entered just as Taako walked in proudly with a bag on his hip.

“Wanna do me a favor and  _ not _ break my store from the inside out?” Merle sighed, not actually angry as he marched across the room to straighten a container that had fallen over by the door.

Wearing sunglasses indoors, Taako pretended not to hear him and strode to the counter gallantly before dropping the back he had on the top of it. “I’ve got one killer idea for you, Merle, and you are  _ not _ gonna want to pass this baby up.”

“Last time you said that you were trying to pass Angus on to me.”

“Which you totes missed out on, so proves my point. Anyways!” He smacked his hand against the counter impatiently, causing Julia to giggle. John saw Taako nearly crack a smile when he heard her. “Come check these bad boys out!”

Merle waddled over to the crowded desk in time for Taako to begin pulling small, carefully wrapped items out of the bag and setting them on the counter. John watched with mild interest, following after Julia and picking up the one set in front of him. He heard her coo in delight and decided it probably wouldn’t be a trap to open up.

“Wow, Taako…” Merle gasped. “These are… awesome!”

Taako preened himself at the compliment, puffing his chest out. “Give it a taste and then we’ll really sing my praises.”

John studied the pastry in his hand carefully. It was a small tart that could fit in one’s hand, filled with a variety of fruits cut and placed together to resemble a blossom. Sprinkled on top and baked into the crust were long, bright blue flower petals. It was gorgeous, really--John had heard much of Taako’s culinary skills before, but his only experience was with Magnus’s barbecue food (which had been good, of course, if not foreign to him).

Julia was the first to take a bite, immediately humming happily as she did so. She nudged John’s arm for him to do the same. So he did.

Like most things, John didn’t have much interest in the fine arts behind cooking or anything. He’d had the highest quality meals before, oh yes, simply because he had the money and the time and he could. But going out alone for however-many course meals only made things worse at some point.

The tart was something closer to that, though the flavors were not as particularly refined as something he once spent far more money on during one of his trips the year prior. He glanced up from the treat to watch the scene before him.

Merle and Taako (sunglasses now up) were discussing some kind of partnership where Bougainvillea would provide Taako’s upcoming restaurant with flowers in exchange for heavy advertising and ‘hey, who knows, cross that bridge when we get to it right broseph?’ Julia threw in suggestions and requests to Taako who listened in earnest, bouncing his reasoning and ideas back at her in turn. Merle provided snide commentary. When he noticed John was simply watching all of them, he sent the man an exaggerated wink to prompt a laugh.

Instead, John just barely managed to cover his mouth with a hand before he started coughing.

“Woah, take it easy, buddy!” Merle said as Julia laughed. It wasn’t anything serious like a coughing fit, just caught off guard. John cringed when he pulled back his arm but breathed a sigh of relief to see he hadn’t ruined his shirt--just a couple of the petals on the cuff of his sleeve. He shook them off and into a nearby trashcan before finishing the pastry. Recently he had been having small fits every now and then while at work, and it was a reminder to ask Merle if he had received any new shipment that he might be allergic to.

Everyone had since given their reviews, and when he lifted his head, Taako was staring at him hard. He supposed it probably was offensive to cough in the middle of a gift--he rectified himself. “You’re a very talented chef, Taako. Thank you for bringing these.”

But for some reason, the goofy smile didn’t return to his face. Taako squinted at him and nodded slowly. “Yeah, uh, thanks… anyways, I gotta go pick Ango up from school.” He turned on heel, snatching up the bag as he went and threw a wave over his shoulder. “I’ll text you later, Merle-- bunco’s at seven!”

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of my store!”

“Sure knows how to make things interesting,” Julia murmured while Taako yanked open the door and earned another warning from Merle. John nodded while sanitizing his hands, unable to shake the feeling he had made a bad impression with the negative reaction to his food. Was it worth apologizing for, if they weren’t close at all? Probably not--Merle would take care of anything big.

The dwarf clapped loudly. “Alright, let’s get back to work--John, we’re trying again today!”

John couldn’t restrain a sigh of indignation while straightening himself from where he was leaning on the counter. He followed after his boss despite his internal complaints.

Merle’s lessons on flower arrangement had amplified now that Sloane was taking some time off to prepare for some sports tournament with Hurley. He and Julia were working longer hours to fill everything together, and it was a little more than hectic trying to make everything work. Merle assured John that he was “so close” to being able to work with them and fill orders, but from what he’d experienced? It was a bit far off.

John thought he had an idea of how to go about things after three months of instructions from Merle, watching him work meticulously. Each time he was handed a paper and told to give it a shot, however, he realized how little he actually knew. It was humbling.

He read over the order Merle handed him today. It was for a young man’s birthday from a friend of his. There were no special flowers to include, no specifications on color, or anything--just “surprise him.”

Glancing at Merle, the dwarf smiled and nodded him along.

John thought his way through it.

This was from one friend to another--it wasn’t romantic at all, so it would be best to avoid typically ‘romantic’ flowers like roses. Actually, the colors as well should steer away from pinks and reds. Oranges and blues were safest, since Merle usually used yellows for ‘get well’ gifts. But orange and blue clash. Maybe…

It took longer than anything Merle did. Where his boss only reworked things minimally by changing their positions, John set aside entire flowers that didn’t work. He didn’t have an image in mind of what he was doing, this was all just… improvisation. When he thought of the one word he was given to work with, it’s enough to give him small sparks of inspiration.

‘Surprise.’

He knew a thing or two about that in the past few months. The bottom rim of the arrangement was set now, mostly long strips of foliage and small bunches of monte casino blooms. Above them go--pansies? No, daisies. John glared down at the number of flowers he brought into the workroom and finally picked up a bright blue gerbera. Even that didn’t look right alone. He clicked his tongue and marched back to the aisles of flowers in the front to pick up another set of flowers-- yellow gerberas, to accompany them.

It was coming together, albeit very slowly. John’s brow was furrowed in a deep line the entire time and he didn’t look at Merle once while he worked. The dwarf was there, surely, watching his every move with an expression John didn’t even want to imagine. He worked better if he just ignored him.

Roses were too much, hydrangeas are too large and clash with the colors… surprise, what did it mean to be a surprise? Were some flowers predictable? Cosmos would fit the shape of the other flowers, but that isn’t surprising. Only the top of the arrangement was left empty and John stared at it long and hard, glancing back and forth between the flowers he brought. Surprise, surprise…

He stopped, glancing down at one single flower he picked on a whim.

Betony, meaning to surprise.

Its purple color clashed with the blue-yellow motif, but… maybe that was the point? He returned to the front with the flowers he didn’t need and returned them to their bins, picking out more betonies and a few yellow peonies.

The top of the bouquet opened up with the peonies there, surrounded by small, purple stalks of flowers. The betonies served as a prelude to the crowning piece, signalling the transition to a ‘surprise.’ After preening a few specific parts and slipping in filler pieces of foliage and tiny white flowers, John took a step back.

It was… actually finished. The fact took him off-guard, as he hadn’t been thinking much of the scenario while he had been working in a complete daze. The piece before him didn’t look like his own, and for a minute, John genuinely couldn’t believe he had produced something… emotional.

“Well, there you go,” Merle said quietly, and John turned to evaluate him. His eyes were focused entirely on the arrangement before them, arms crossed in approval and smiling. There was a similar fondness in his gaze that John recognized from the night of the first party. He finally averted his eyes to stare up and John and his grin widened. “See? Told ya’ you had it in you.”

His thoughts returned to all the previous lectures and lessons he had sat through, and all the books he stayed up late reading to understand how Merle worked through his arrangements.

John’s stomach twisted in a sick realization as Merle began to appraise his work aloud, complimenting how the colors and similarities in shape interact.

He was saying things John knew--things he had thought while creating it.

Merle had been doing exactly what John tried to do for months now; he had studied him.

Suddenly, John felt completely vulnerable and laid bare before him. Of course someone who worked with floral pieces for years now would be able to understand a person through them, especially when it was Merle who  _ taught _ John how to think through them. These flowers were a language Merle had been speaking fluently for years, and try as John might to understand a single sentence, Merle so easily picked up on what John said.

The tightness in his stomach uncurled and rose up through his chest. It was like an imaginary force was threatening to crawl up and out of his throat at that moment--

Except it wasn’t imaginary.

The force of his own body rejecting something caused John to step back and nearly double over entirely. He could hear Merle ask him something, but once he began coughing, the sound was deafening. The sensation of bile rising, yet coming up his windpipe instead, was both irritating and incredibly painful. His body lurched forward with each heave, simply ridding his body of as much air as possible before he finally felt something…  _ pass _ .

The need to cough disappeared immediately, and it left John gasping for air he had been denied. When he glanced up, Merle was no longer present and somewhere in the back of his mind he registered he must have said he would get water. John licked his dry lips once he regained his breath, only now having the thought to see what had been obscuring his windpipe.

A cluster of small, yellow flower petals.

The breath he just regained was lost immediately, as previous exchanges, experiences, and past words returned all at once.

“Here, John, drink this--” He whipped around just as Merle entered the room, nearly knocking the dwarf over and spilling the cup he was holding. If Merle’s shocked expression was anything to go off of, John must’ve looked like a wreck. He shoved his fist full of the petals into his pocket and made towards the door Merle had just come out of.

“I--think I might be coming down with something, I really should go home.”

“What? Wait, I’m a cleric, let me--”

John shook his head and didn’t look over his shoulder. “No, it’s chronic, don’t worry I’ll, I’ll contact you later!”

He ignored Merle coming after him as well as Julia who tried speaking on his way out. It would be impossible to try and think with any of them around, and suddenly the image of flowers everywhere made him feel sick.

But John  _ was  _ sick.

The walk home was one he usually took in stride, not preferring to rush things as he never had any need to. It never suited his age, image, or stamina to sprint somewhere if he was late, not that he ever was. But now he marched quickly down the sidewalk, maneuvering his way around people and nearly pushing a couple of them out of the way.

Never had he needed to be home as quickly as now. During the party, he had been overwhelmed by the social circumstances and needed to be alone as soon as possible. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he hadn’t minded it when Merle walked with him back to his house.

John slapped a hand over his mouth as another cough racked his entire body, but he kept walking, clenched his hand into a fist, and shoved it back into his pocket.

More than anything, he couldn’t think right now, and he needed to be able to. This was… new, entirely, and John wasn’t even sure he had been born with the equipment to deal with this. What even  _ was _ this?

As soon as the door to his house was open, John immediately shrugged out of his jacket and almost ripped the top two buttons from his shirt, feeling more claustrophobic and choked than ever before. His shoes came off next and were kicked against the wall with a resounding ‘bang.’

The idea of being back in his boring, monochrome home, was more comforting now than it had been in the past almost thirty some-odd years he’d lived here.

Until he caught sight of the variety of vases and flower arrangements on his living room table and kitchen counter.

_ “We have a lot of flowers we throw out once they begin wilting and aren’t good to be sold. It’d be easy to throw them together and have you bring home--probably spruce the place up a bit, don’t you think?” _

The petals he could still feel in his hand were only a sick reminder. The hand holding them flew out of his pocket, subsequently flinging the petals everywhere as his body was forced to the ground in another strong, shattering fit of coughs.

This one was larger than the last, and John can only be grateful he was home in time for it. If earlier was a slight irritation in the back of his throat, this was a ball bearing lodged in his lungs. John keeled over on the floor with his hands to his neck as if trying to feel whatever was causing him this amount of pain.

It hurt.

It hurt like no pain he had ever felt.

For a minute, he felt like he might die right there on the floor of his foyer, choking to death. It would be a pathetic yet fitting way for somebody like him, who had lived without a single friend or love, to go.

The next cough ripped his throat raw and John finally felt a mass collect in his throat that was tangible enough to focus on.

But he was impatient, wishing for breath and for this experience to end quickly. With two slim fingers, John continued to wheeze and cough, but reached as far in the back of his throat as he could without forcing himself to vomit. He gagged and felt tears prick at his eyes from the sensation.

His fingers touched something the next time he coughed, and he nearly choked himself reaching to grab it. The task was not difficult, given the object this time was…  _ bigger. _

He audibly gagged and groaned when he was able to pull the intruder out and focused first on the ability to breathe. Everything fluctuated in time, as if certain objects and scenes were occurring faster or slower than others. He attributed it to his lightheadedness as well as the shock of the situation--the situation? Looking down, John opened his hand. 

The sight itself was almost enough to make John puke, as if coughing violently on the floor for so long hadn’t been. The world around him sped up while the moment he now lived in crawled on for hours.

In his hand was a wet, bright yellow flower the size of his palm.

A chrysanthemum.

He quickly tore the plant up and stumbled to his feet. With all the books he’d been bringing home about flowers, he  _ had _ to have something about this whole ordeal. Most things he brought back were about plant life, but he had some about the language of flowers and their historical use. Surely there would be something, else he would have to use the internet.

Once he miraculously made it up the tall staircase, John simply gathered every book on his shelf (separated for work) and fell into his bed unceremoniously. He looked a disaster, petals stuck to his hands and shirt, face flushed, still breathing hard, and clothes disheveled. But he hardly cared in the comfort of his own home, and began to scan through every volume before him for that single thing he had ignored for too long.

He found the answer in ‘A History of Floral Favors,’ one of the first few he ever brought home.

John felt his throat close up at the sight of one single word.

Hanahaki.

It was the only thing he could think of, and though he hadn’t known until now, was one of his greatest fears. There must be a subset of similar curses, spinoffs similar in nature and symptom of some sort--because logistically, it simply made no sense. He took a deep breath, calming himself so he could focus on reading.

A lot of it was things he already knew from living in a hanahaki rampant town almost all of his life. The victim was doomed to expel flowers and petals from their throat during moments where their emotions were at relative highs. It was passed down through generations and typically appeared after adolescence. 

_ Due to the romantic nature of the curse, floral pieces revolving around hanahaki can be delicate... _

He frowned at the book and bit his nail; it was nowhere near enough information. He picked up another and began to flip through it.

_ If untreated for too long, it could be fatal. _

He went to a different book.

_ A life expectancy of three to four months after the first petals are expelled. _

Another one.

_ Victims die either by suffocation or inevitable poison damage. _

A different book.

_ Some of the strongest romances in history have bloomed from this disease. _

John was on the verge of tearing each book he had by the binding. Why had it never occurred to him to take a book specifically on this topic? Given he had never really cared until--until Merle had brought it up. John lifted his head to look at the bookcase again and recognized a few volumes out of place on their regular shelves.

Right--after their conversation about Merle’s friend, he had left out a book about it, but John, uninterested as he was, set it aside. He slowly rose from the bed and didn’t bother picking up the books now strewn across his floor. John felt prone, as if any wrong movement might set him off again. This was, after all, no way the same condition he was reading about--just similar. It wouldn’t make any sense if he actually had this over romanticized,  _ dramatic _ disease mostly involved in young adult’s romantic films. It wasn’t him.

John only read the title of the book for a moment to make sure it was right before he immediately turned back and fell onto the bed once again. He took this book back home in case the subject of hanahaki came back up and he wanted to understand the sentiment enough to make arrangements, as the orders continued coming in.

_ Although the curse is considered fatal in popular media _ , the book began in one of the later chapters,  _ it is not always the case. There are multiple circumstances under which a victim may be released from this curse and can continue with their lives. _

_ The most well known cure is to have their unrequited feelings returned. _

John’s nose scrunched up in distaste.

_ As the curse feeds off the feeling of unrequited affection and the pains that come with it, to become a part of a fulfilling romance would end it. While many sources of popular media will incorrectly label these instances as proof of ‘true love,’ there have been multiple instances in which one might end their relationship after being cured. If they encounter another relationship under similar circumstances, some have reported the curse will indeed return. _

_ If a victim confesses their love and is rejected, however, the flowers will not only increase exponentially, but may wilt in the patient’s throat and speed up the process of poisoning... _

He skipped ahead a few pages, not needing the plethora of relationship advice the book focused on providing.

His answers were in the next chapter, titled ‘Counter Spells.’

_ Both doctors and magicians have worked together to determine another possible means of freeing people from this curse. As it is magical in nature, there is only a magical ‘cure.’ _

_ To undo a curse, a spell of equal magnitude is required to reverse engineer the cause of the curse. Although these spells are offered and typically covered by insurance, many refrain from taking them due to the drastic consequences following the spell. _

_ For a curse feeding off the emotions of love to be terminated, the only current solution is to use a spell which cuts the patient off from the feelings of ‘love’ entirely. _

John shut the book and tossed it to the side; this wasn’t helping at all. There were no chapters on similar cases, or irregularities leading to the same symptoms. He laid back and tried to think through his own situation.

It was true he had been feeling worse physically the past few weeks. He coughed more often at work, and if he thought about it, he came home with more petals sticking to his clothes than he remembered before. It would mean he was at least a month in.

Even if he was to believe he did indeed have this hanahaki curse, there were still many parts he took issue with. If the curse manifested after adolescence, how was it he only just had symptoms now, in his fifties? Did people even  _ suffer _ from this once they were as old as him?

And then there was the glaring issue of love.

The word itself made John cringe and he laid back on his bed, pressing his palms to his eyes. It had never been a great concern of his, ever, and he had thought it wasn’t one now either. John was fine with living the rest of his life alone, as he had done for so many years already, and hadn’t even thought about dating or anything in years. He was an old man--it wasn’t for him at this point.

So if this was true, why was his body trying to convince him he had feelings for someone he couldn’t even place? It made no sense. He rubbed at his eyes; was there a chance the curse simply laid dormant in him, and after some biological fuck up, manifested anyways? That would make the survival rate all the more concerning if there was nothing he could do to help it if he wanted to.

When John felt his phone buzz in his pocket, he thought nothing of opening it up and reading a text from Merle.

**“You’ve gotta take care of yourself old man!! My offer still stands if u need healing!”**

As John was sent into another flurry of spewing petals, he made two final realizations.

Firstly, he was indeed afflicted with hanahaki, the romantic curse of legend that kept pop culture buzzing and young people dying.

Second, his body was better at keeping secrets than he thought.

John called into work the next day for his own sake, afraid of what would happen if he met with the cause of all this pain face to face.

It just had to be that fucking dwarf--and in retrospect, it probably always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hang out with me @ludella on tumblr, i take requests and talk a lot


	8. Month 5 - Meaningful Meal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say it with me now: 'yikes'

When John was younger, he never considered himself different from anybody else. Sure, he was ‘different,’ but not an outlier by any means. He got along with friends as he had them, succeeded in school, and went about work like a model citizen. What he lacked in family, friendships, and romance, he made up in throwing himself into work and building up a fortune for himself. He bought things, went places, but didn’t do anything. By converting effort that would be used to spend time with people into savings earned, John was able to put a numeric value on his emotions.

His current job didn’t pay as well as his previous career, but the accumulated wealth he had saved up finally came in handy.

It wasn’t enough to swipe books from the store anymore, thus John invested in an entire row of books dedicated to historical text, homemade remedies, and a few self indulgent coping manuals for those in his position. He bought new jackets to wear overtop his usual button down for work, more like cardigans than anything, with deep pockets in the front. New pants with better pockets were also in order.

One of the first things he found out during his research was that doctors were, ultimately, useless. The most they could do was treat the symptoms, and even then they were majorly magical. Some people reported using small counter-spells at a time had short term benefits, but for John who was an entirely un-magical human being, he turned to fantasy CVS instead.

John went back to work.

He couldn’t hold it off forever.

He spent money on cough drops, first. It seemed logical, popping them in while at work to try and prevent fits from occurring. Cough syrups before work and after to help sleep, drops and mints while on the clock. But all they did was keep his throat from hurting, although he supposed it helped reinforce his alibi of a chronic disease he’d given earlier.

John still tried to keep it as low key as he could. He considered at one point buying a face mask to cover his mouth, but held back when he realized they were large symbols in pop culture now due to the curse. Even if he had an excuse that worked, anything that could give even a _hint_ to him having hanahaki was immediately off the table.

The small items he had bought from drug stores worked for some time. If he could simply anticipate an emotional moment, it all would have been fine with just those alone.

That was the thing about his horrid subject, though--Merle was unpredictable.

John would open a cough drop while arranging flowers and feel nothing when Merle walked in and tagged it, praising his work. But moments when he thought he was safe were the most dangerous. He had been caught a few times while leaving work, Merle calling his attention back and saying some shitty one-liner about being proud of him or looking forward to tomorrow would set him off.

The worst was the banter.

He had become so used to their conversation patterns and actually enjoyed them before any of this nonsense began. They talked as if it was a battle of wits, outsmarting each other with snippy lines and winning if the other laughed. It was practically impossible now, as whenever John found himself enjoying Merle’s company, his heart would inexplicably swell and petals would rise in his throat. It was easier to do over text when he didn’t have to worry about being seen.

Thus, John continued using his accumulated wealth on other means. He bought more books focusing on the magical side of the curse and other remedies people would use. The internet proved more useful in all actuality, with entire forums dedicated to people trading information on magical items and cantrips to use.

The curse was an unnatural one in that no recorded history of anything similar could be found, giving conspiracy groups reason to question its origins. There had been a large court case a few decades ago in which a group of magically inclined elves attempted to recreate the spell in order to prove its origins. In the end, they were left with nothing but fresh corpses with flowers blooming grotesquely from every bodily orifice.

Their work had not been entirely unsuccessful, though, as they produced a multitude of smaller spells and magic items to lessen the effects.

Such items included a pair of glasses that, when the user’s pulse quickened unnaturally, would cause them to go blind momentarily in order to stop their emotions from rising. Another pendant acted similarly, deafening the victim for a few moments.

They were, unfortunately, only exchanged in corners of the internet too deep for someone as anti-tech-savvy as John to conceive finding. The only other option he had would be to pay any back-alley wizard to cast a spell on him, but evidently the only ones that worked lasted a day at best. Even he didn’t have the funds to make that work.

John was simply surviving day by day.

In times like this, he thought about Julia and Magnus. Though he had no intentions on opening up to anyone about this, he couldn’t shake the feeling that one of them would… understand, if Merle’s implications were anything to go off of. He tried to think of either of them, or any other person in the world, going through all the pain and hardship he was now. There existed support groups, hotlines, and all kinds of resources that he vehemently denied.

But he imagined Magnus, the strong man he was, in his shoes. A lovely lady out of his reach and love unrequited. How had he dealt with it? John didn’t know the man very well at all, had only spoken to him at the parties they had every now and then (all tamer than the first, given there were no more pregnancies to celebrate) and when he visited the store. He was nice. That was about it.

After weeks of excused bathroom breaks and coughing into his hand at work, shoving flower petals into his pockets or hiding them with the rest in the trash, he was nearing his limit.

Nearly every word Merle said or smile the dwarf made set him off, and the damned old man didn’t even have a clue. He continued to offer any sort of healing which, technically, would probably help. John’s shortcoming was that he possessed no knowledge of magic, and Merle would definitely help were he not the cause of all his problems. Even just offering to help made John gag on another cluster of leaves.

John hadn’t known he was even capable of love before all of this happened. He still didn’t. Nothing he’d read about romance reminded him of his current situation or relationship with Merle in the slightest, as what he held was a mere… fascination with the man’s outlook on life and reasoning.

At first he simply wanted to know him.

Now John wanted to be known _by_ him.

If this mutual understanding and exchange of purely objective information was to be known as love, then John could concede. He wanted love. He had love. He craved more of it. But even that wouldn’t be returned by Merle--if he could settle on being in his own odd type of ‘love,’ their fundamental differences were set so that Merle would never understand or be able to return it.

The realization had been enough to send him nearly vomiting into the sink of Bougainvillea’s bathroom.

Fortunately for him, today was one of the few where Merle was not in and he was left alone with Julia at the counter. Nearing the end of the night, he had already finished up all the orders they had to do, and the two were left conversing comfortably at the front of the store with the advantage of no late customers. Every now and then a straggler who forgot their anniversary would pop in, but as rule of thumb, few people came in past 6pm.

As difficult as it was, John wanted to take advantage of the situation.

The woman beside him was now pleasantly distended with pregnancy, and she held her belly with two hands at all times as if the bump would deflate as soon as she let go. She was a perfect mother far before the child was even born, and somehow, John knew Magnus would be an ideal father as well. It was impossible for him not to be.

He wanted to ask about him, to bring up Magnus’s feelings about their child and delve slowly into the beginnings of their relationship. They were relatively close now, as close as John could be with somebody so much younger than him, and Julia had shared more personal information before.

“You’re nervous, John,” she said suddenly, yanking him from his thoughts for the umpteenth time that night. When he looked to her, she was staring at him curiously. “Do you need something?”

He had probably been staring at her the entire time, and nearly flushed in embarrassment. The recent surge in the sheer number of emotions he was capable of recently were shameful. “No, I apologize. I was simply surprised how soon the baby is showing.”

Julia smiled at the comment and wasted no time launching into a story about all the books she’s read about pregnancy and motherhood, and how she had socked another more pregnant woman in the face at the store for them. He only listened halfway, having no genuine interest in either the prospect of motherhood or children in general. Kids were something he was glad he didn’t have to put up with often, or at all, really.

At the chime of the door, both of them stopped and prepared to serve a customer ten minutes before closing when none other than Taako walked in, sunglasses on as if he was not both out at night and indoors. Julia leaned over the counter eagerly.

“Taako!” she sang happily. “What’re you doing in here so late? You rarely come by anymore!’

He made himself at home quickly, leaning his full weight over the counter and coming dangerously close to John’s personal bubble. “Opening this restaurant is taking up all my times, Jules, that and my fucking _kid_ that I suddenly have.”

“Must be rough.”

“You’ll learn soon.” With his head on his crossed arms laying over the counter, Taako tilted his chin up to stare John down impassively. He had yet to say a word, always at a loss for them whenever Taako was around. The elf was… odder than the rest of Merle’s friends, to say the least. Unpredictable. “You got any cool plans tonight after work, John?”

He slowly raised a curious brow. “No, not in particular--”

“Great!” Taako said, standing straight and slamming his hands on the countertop with a mischievous grin. The look in his eye made John immediately regret saying anything. “Now you do. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something, but Merle’s always around.”

John didn’t understand the correlation. “Yes, we do work together most days.”

“Of course he would,” Taako mumbled, crossing his arms behind his head as waltzed around the counter and sat in the chair designated for Julia that she often ignored. The conversation continued as usual, Taako taking slightly more interest in what she had to say about motherhood as he told stories about Angus in between. It appeared he was finally referring to the child as his own recently, though he would deny it if confronted.

The two of them had not spoken much one on one before. Every now and then Taako would come in while only John was at the counter and interrogate him, asking questions that should’ve been icebreakers but ended up feeling more like another job interview. Other times he just asked about the others and boasted about himself. John preferred those times.

But once the store closed and he was being led down the street by the wizard on a route opposite to his house, there were no such conversations. Taako was entirely silent, walking a pace in front of him, and twirled his bag around his wrist loosely. John felt entirely out of place walking beside him, dressed like the old man he was in a white shirt and patterned cardigan while the elf was done up to the nines in a flowy blouse that draped off one shoulder and tight leather pants with heels. They were like total opposites, which wasn’t wrong.

They only had to walk for a short time until they arrived at a building with no distinct identification on the outside but obviously not abandoned. “We’ve got another two months until we open, but we live in a loft upstairs so we’re already usin’ the place. Had dinner?”

“I haven’t,” John said as they entered the building and he took the chance to observe the place. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged the two month deadline in relationship to his own.

All of the beginnings of a restaurant were here. There were only a few chairs stacked up in the back, and fancy, dark wood tables were scattered haphazardly around the main dining area. Things like curtains and picture frames laid on the ground where they would be hung at a later date and there were no less than a dozen different swatches of entirely different colors of paint on the walls. Only half the lights were on, and between them were six different shaped bulbs, one even emitting a blue light. Taako had obviously been doing a lot of decision making.

He didn’t get the chance to peek into any of the other rooms before they turned into the kitchen which was immediately more polished. Evidently, Taako had his priorities laid clear on the table. Everything was state of the art in some form or fashion, although none of the appliances matched each other in the slightest. While one oven was stainless steel, another was made of marble, and the refrigerator was covered in overly domestic magnets and Angus’s college acceptance letters. There was even a single family photo with the three of them at what appeared to be a recital or performance of some sort, Kravitz holding a conductor’s baton with his arm around Taako who cradled Angus in one arm as if he were a babe, the kid holding a clarinet in his small hands proudly.

“Cute, isn’t it?” Taako asked, breaking John from his thoughts as he swung the refrigerator door open. “Until we get the wine rack that’s supposed to go here, we’re keeping this down here. Supposed to go upstairs in our actual kitchen, but this shit’s easier to cook with.” John watched as Taako pulled out a number of deliberate ingredients and held them all in one arm as he waltzed to a counter and gestured for John to sit at one of the three bar stools they had dragged in.

John could hardly handle the uncomfortable suspense for a minute longer. “I’m sorry, Taako, was there--something you called me here to talk about?”

For a minute, the elf didn’t respond, focusing instead on chopping the vegetables he’d pulled out and organizing them by color. Standing at the same counter, he could see Taako’s passive expression clear from here, and his brows furrowed at the peppers he was dicing. “You have it, don’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“Hanahaki.”

John felt his blood immediately run cold. Taako didn’t even look at him, throwing the cut vegetables in a pan and listening to them sizzle. “I… I don’t know if I get what you’re--”

“The pastries,” Taako interrupted, “that I brought in a few weeks ago. I baked cornflower petals into them, they’re edible. When you coughed, there were cyclamen petals.” He glanced over at John, making eye contact for the first time. “Which, you know, are poisonous.”

He’d had no idea. John could believe it, and remembered the event when he thought about it. He had thought nothing of the petals he coughed, seeing as others were baked into the tarts themselves. He’d assumed they were just in there somewhere--now he felt stupid, not realizing the difference between what should’ve been crumpled, wilted flowers in a pastry with the full liveliness of the petals he coughed from the curse now.

Taako continued. “I panicked for a while, thinking I had accidentally poisoned everyone. It’s a touchy subject. But I used to work there, you know? At Bougainvillea. There’s no way I would’ve made that mistake, so I stopped by every now and then and started paying more attention to you.”

“Why was hanahaki your first thought?” John asked quickly, cutting the elf off. He was surprised Taako didn’t get agitated at being interrupted and his face remained aloof and distant.

He shook the pan and lifted it in the air, wiggling his fingers over it as seasonings appeared from nothingness. A few more ingredients were conjured from the air before Taako returned to the refrigerator to pull out something natural.

“I was only interested in seeing if I had made a mistake, you know.” John watched as Taako’s body grew visibly tense, hands losing their whimsical flair in cooking as he methodically began to cut whatever meat he’d pulled out. “Then I was just observing you, and I noticed… we’re actually pretty similar, oddly. Like, obviously, I’m much more youthful, gorgeous, and talented, but… emotions wise. We’re similar.”

“That seems like a... stretch.”

“I wouldn’t be telling you this otherwise, dummy. When was the last time you opened up to somebody and showed some vulnerability?”

John tried to think about it and felt a grimace pull at his face in reflex.

Taako snapped and pointed at him, “Exactly.”

“I still don’t follow your reasoning.”

“Well if you _listened_ instead of _interrupting_ me…”

John held up his hands defensively and leaned away, signalling for him to continue.

Taako scoffed before continuing and turned back to his cooking. “When I noticed we were the same with this, and what was going on with you, I didn’t want to just leave it like that because--well, I was in the same boat for a while.”

He let the information hang in the air.

There was no correct response to things like this, John realized, as he simply allowed the knowledge to wash over him. Not only did this fill in the missing parts of the Merle puzzle itself, but suddenly provided insight on a perspective of hanahaki he’d never experienced--the bystander.

He tried to picture Merle in his shoes, being told by his best friend they were suffering from a possibly fatal curse. Or, knowing Taako said they were similar, he probably hadn’t told a single soul. They were probably entirely the same, John realized with an odd sense of clarity--maybe most people with hanahaki were.

“Obviously, it was, uh, Kravitz. He was the conductor of the orchestra Angus was a part of, and long story short, it was fucking hopeless. The only person I told was Lup, and that’s because I was afraid if I had it, she might experience the same since she was totes crushing on Barry at the time.”

That’s right, it was hereditary. John hadn’t heard anything about Lup or anyone else being affected, but it would make her a carrier.

Taako laughed in spite of himself. “It was the final straw she needed to confess and those two have been on the road ever since. But because of that, they started doing… research together. For me and her. Since we’re identical twins, we’re like, the same everything biologically, so it made perf testing conditions.” He paused, hands stopping as if he was seriously considering his next few words. “Lup, Barry, and I… did everything we could to try and stop it or heal me. They came up with a ton of spells and magical items to lessen the symptoms. Some better than others.”

“Such as?”

“A tiny herbivorous dinosaur being planted in your lungs to eat the flowers.”

“And how’d _that_ work out.”

“Not that good.” Taako threw his head back in a loud laugh and John couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “There were other stupid things, too, like a love potion to make you fall in love with somebody else. I decided against that one, hard pass. We focused more on spells and casting illusions when I had to come in contact with Krav so he wouldn’t notice.”

He slid the pan off the stove and pulled out two plates, beginning to serve the food he’d just made as if he wasn’t in the middle of an important story. “And so…? What happened?”

Taako handed John a plate and fork, sitting down right next to him and popping a bite in his mouth casually.

“I had to be hospitalized.”

John felt a chill run down his spine.

It was like listening to a future for himself.

“Things kept getting worse and worse--it went from dead flowers to cactus needles, and I needed treatment more for my damaged lungs and throat than anything else.” Taako continued eating throughout his story, never once looking at John. “Kravitz took Angus in while I was down, and fuck, that just made it worse, you know? The guy had no idea what was going on, but Angus did, little shit. He snitched and told Krav when I was like, a week away from kicking the bucket. So the guy comes in, all romantic like, and confessed his love for me.”

“And you were cured?”

“Not immediately,” Taako shrugged. “I had one last fit before it ended, full of rose petals that were bright and red. Would’ve been romantic if I also wasn’t like, burping up blood. So I spend a few more days recovering, we start dating, get hitched, and the rest is history.”

John nodded along as he ate what was one of the better meals of his life in silence. Everything checked out with what he knew of the two as well as Merle’s mysterious friend who had been afflicted. There were a number of cases of hanahaki that had happy endings--a lot of them did, actually. Those ones usually were over with quickly in this day and age where the symptoms were well known and obvious to those who paid minimal attention. With one love confession, they were cured and had a wonderful story to tell their children for years to come.

“You had a happy ending,” John pointed out, feeling slightly more optimistic about their conversation. “And from the looks of it now, you two are doing just fine still.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted to give you some advice.”

Taako set down his fork and drummed his fingers against the table briefly before turning to John. His eyes were hard and his face suddenly colder.

“You should probably just give up.”

John stopped.

“I’m… sorry?”

“Kravitz was a single guy looking for a date,” Taako explained, “so we went out easily. Merle’s not as easy as Krav--he’s told you about his ex-wife and kids, I’m sure. He’s got a lot of baggage, a lot of… stuff.”

Seeing John had stopped eating, Taako took a forkful of his food and ate it off his plate. He stared John hard in the eye.

“The old man’s a flirt, but he doesn’t want anything serious--I don’t know if he _can_ love, much less wants to. He won’t return your feelings.”

He’d never thought of Merle romantically before any of this happened, especially not of any kind of future they might have together. The idea of them dating had never occurred to him, not willingly, at least.

Yet the chances were dashed before they had a chance to even take root.

“After the divorce with his ex, Merle tried getting back on the dating scene. He just kept getting hurt by everyone he put his heart out on the line for, old sap. After a while he just… swore off romance altogether and said he wanted to focus on the shop and his kids instead. A while ago we asked him about it and he said he was perfectly happy as things were already.” Taako shrugged. “That he wouldn’t change anything about his life, so he… won’t.”

It sounded familiar, but not because John had heard the words from Merle’s mouth; they were his own thoughts as well.

Why would you change something that didn’t need to be fixed?

Taako kept speaking. “You should consider getting the counter-spell and just be done with all of it. If we’re as similar as I think, it might be best to just not think about love at all anymore--you haven’t before, right?”

“No,” he agreed, “I never have.”

“Then you might as well just get rid of the whole emotion entirely. It’ll help out in the long run.”

The words he was saying made sense. If John had never loved before, there was no sense in wasting all this pain and potentially his life on this one that would never come to fruition. Being one of his best friends, Taako knew Merle better than he did, and was the best person to listen to for things like this. It was the love advice he’d never asked for, but sorely needed.

"I don't--" John suddenly began, "want this, you know. I never  _wanted_ this." As soon as he finally spoke up about it, voicing his thoughts on the curse and his situation for the first time in the few months he'd had it, it was like a dam had been broken loose. John kept speaking, voice increasing in volume. "I don't even know where these  _feelings_ came from, or why I have them at all when I'm already this old. It isn't disappointing to be told a love I never had won't come to fruition--I don't  _want_ it to begin with."

The entire time he ranted, Taako stared at him quietly, expression gradually softening. "I know," he said, softer this time. "I said the exact same thing--it fucking  _sucks_ , and there's no way out of it besides either getting rejected and facing possible death, or just... undoing the entire thing."

John was only able to calm when he realized Taako was speaking from a point of pure sympathy and understanding. They really had been through the same thing, hadn't they? He almost felt embarrassed for having blown up and revealed any of his emotions or vulnerability at all--but at the same time, to finally get any bit of this off his chest was more relieving than anything he'd experienced.

“I’d like…” John hesitated, staring down at his plate now since untouched. He suddenly didn’t have the stomach. “To hold off on taking such drastic measures for a while.”

Taako nodded sagely, as if he understood exactly where John was coming from. And he did, seeing as the elf hadn’t gotten the counter-spell done himself. He'd likely had the same hesitance. “Sure. I can uh, help you out with hiding it, if you want?”

“I’d appreciate it--thank you, Taako.”

They talked a while longer about what they could do to help John along, and he slowly realized he had been wrong about his previous notions about Taako. The elf made him swear fealty and secrecy as if John didn’t want his own secret being spread, but agreed nonetheless. Taako smiled and gave him his phone number to contact if he needed anything, and they would start on their plan to work things out coming up.

John agreed he could tell Lup and Barry under the circumstances that his name not be brought up or if it was, they keep silent. Ever since Taako’s case, they had become fascinated with hanahaki and continued their research on it, and Taako assured him they had come up with a few interesting methods that might be fruitful.

It was the first time John had spoken with somebody about his condition, and thankfully, it was somebody who understood. He didn’t speak about his feelings in particular, much like Taako hadn’t, and that reluctance to acknowledge them in itself was comforting. They were inexplicably similar as opposite as they were, and he felt… confident in giving such information to Taako, oddly. He had no reason to betray John, and all the more to help.

Yet when John left the restaurant that night, he didn’t feel any better at all.

He had been given someone to confide in.

He had alternate methods of treating himself.

He had two professionals now working to help him.

And he was given, ultimately, a reasonable way out of this entire mess.

But Taako’s words rung in his ears, repeating despite his efforts to pass them off.

_“You should probably just give up.”_

John cleared his mind with thoughts about the food and restaurant itself until he was able to make it home. It had been two months, almost three, since all of this began, and he knew himself by now. He could feel the congestion in his throat beginning to build up and only made it halfway up the stairs.

The flowers inside scratched his throat painfully, and John resigned himself to the horrors of another traumatic fit. He knew he could not help it and simply kneeled on a step, clutching the railing as he allowed the curse to take its course. When a wave came, he lurched forward, dry heaving with the weight of his entire body. There was no time to inhale between coughs, and the need for air pricked beneath the skin of his cheeks.

It was intense and present, and John could not be bothered.

He’d known this was coming, had felt the flower bud the moment Taako had spoken. The entire conversation it bloomed, and through his walk home, began to rot. The first bits came out in a single brown petal, much like the bouquets John brought home. Alive, but not in perfect condition.

 _“I don’t know if he_ can _love, much less wants to. He won’t return your feelings.”_

John never considered what it would be like to be with Merle romantically, despite the obvious longings his body informed him of. He could register a feeling akin to love sooner than its results or insinuations.

What would it be like?

He would be on the receiving end of those oddly warm smiles Merle saved for talk about his children or best friends. At those monthly parties, they would be just another couple and talk to others as a pair. They would hold deeper, more meaningful conversations about themselves, and share their feelings.

But those were things they already did. What made things romantic?

Holding hands, kissing, having sex? John hadn’t even thought of the idea before the very moment. He felt like vomiting. Would they move in together, sleep together, eat together? Is that what it meant to be in love and so very domestic? John would wake up in their shared bed and they would smile at each other, kissing in the morning before making breakfast together and eating at a small kitchenette.

Like hell they would.

John knew that domestic life didn’t suit either of them.

_“That he wouldn’t change anything about his life, so he… won’t.”_

The flower that was wrenched from his throat came out in one dark piece, splatting offensively against the step before him. While panting heavily, John snatched it in his hand and grimaced.

Scabiosa.

The mourning bride.

He ripped it in his hands and threw it over the railing, watching the dark petals scatter in the air as they fell to the floor, heavy with fluid.

It was all a sick, cruel joke.

John had wanted to change his life for the first time in fifty years, and this is what happened.

Bullshit.

* * *

“Damn good thing you’ve been feeling better, John,” Merle said one day, hands deep in a vase as he cleaned it out. “You’ve been fightin’ that illness for a while, I didn’t want to lose a good worker when you just started helping out!”

John held up a flower in each hand to compare them before putting the first into the arrangement he was working on. He didn’t look back. “Yes, I suppose my death would be less beneficial if I couldn’t pay you for my own funeral spray, wouldn’t it?”

Merle laughed immediately, as if he had anticipated the witty response. “I’m being half serious, come on!”

John didn’t know the dwarf was near until he placed a hand on his arm, forcing the human into a meaningful stare. Merle frowned, concerned.

“You’ve been getting distant, bud. You can talk to me if you need anything about anything, alright?”

John ducked his hand down and held tight onto a small device in his pocket, pressing a button on the side just in time.

The slight tingle of a spell spread through his body, momentarily stopping his pulse.

When it returned just a few seconds later, John was able to ease a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be all better soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this one was so fun to write. and i just keep having fun writing this, and i'm so glad people are having fun reading it!!
> 
> come hang out @ludella on tumblr to chill with me and talk about these doofuses


	9. Month 6 - The Nightmare Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprised i wrote this so quickly but i was DETERMINED to get this out before we get our asses beat on thursday
> 
> only a couple more chapters left, shit!!!

Barry and Lup assured him it was safe, and he had no reason not to trust them.

It was another party this month, now at Taako’s future restaurant where they could really celebrate and have more variety in food than a barbecue could offer. Soon they would be gathering here to celebrate its grand opening, and it would be a marvelous event with high spirits and booze flowing freely. Tonight was basically a practice round.

John watched the scene before him, Taako holding onto Kravitz’s arm tightly while laughing openly. The human kept his other arm wrapped around his waist so they were basically embracing the entire time, though John could tell it was to keep the elf from falling over. In the back of his mind, John remembered a conversation where Taako had shared he was only allowed to get drunk at his own residence. Now was certainly the time. 

It was almost hard watching them, knowing now what had happened. John remembered Taako’s cold expression as he recited the traumatic events from his past a month ago, comparing it to how happy he looked now surrounded by his husband and child.

He reached a hand into his pocket, not quite pressing the device there, but holding onto it.

Never had he been envious of a happy family before. 

When someone bumped into him, John looked down to meet Merle’s eye. The dwarf pressed a glass against his arm for John to take. So he did. “You don’t look so hot, buddy,” Merle said, and John easily downed the entire drink which he immediately learned was beer in one long gulp. He didn’t have the time for appearances or sobriety right now. When Merle spoke next, it was in a quieter voice. “How is… treatment?”

John shrugged. “Fine enough… I’m still at work, aren’t I?”

“You sound like Julia,” Merle laughed. “But fair enough--think you’re well enough to drink with me tonight?”

“I think I’m just sick enough to need to.”

They made their way over to a table that was empty but near enough to the rest of the others that whoever could join them--and as soon as they began laying out shot glasses and bottles of liquor, others filed in. Hurley sat in on John’s right and Lup across from her beside Merle. The two women immediately set to pouring their own drinks while listening in on their conversation.

“Try and match me shot for shot?” Merle asked, already pouring a line in front of him before reaching across the table to do the same in the glasses by John.

He didn’t bother answering him and simply picked up the first shot, lifting it in the air and waiting for Merle to clink their glasses together. They simultaneously threw their drinks back and slammed the glasses top-down on the table at nearly the same time, earning a laugh from Hurley and a cheer from Lup.

“C’mon, John, I’ve got money on you now!” Lup said with her fist banging on the table. It was obvious she’d already had a little to drink as well by now.

Merle laughed and picked up the next shot. “Can’t let her down now, Johnny boy.”

They carried on the night like that, matching shots and taking breaks in between to talk about something or other unimportant. After the sixth shot, Sloane strolled over and sat beside Hurley, launching them into a conversation about their tournament coming up later in the month they were training for. Lup was the one to remind them they hadn’t finished and pushed the bottle of whiskey across the table to John, eager to see chaos more than anything else.

“You two should come as well,” Sloane said after detailing what event they were attending. It took a moment for John to register she was talking to him, and Hurley nodded along. “Even if it’s just at one of the short stops or anywhere along the track--the finish line will probably be crowded.”

“Have you ever been before?” John asked Merle curiously, now eight shots down and pleasantly social.

Merle nodded. “Couple years ago, yeah--real cool shit, that’s for sure. These gals came real close to winning back then!”

“And we’ve got it in the bag this year!” Hurley came in. She was practically bouncing with excitement, and John saw Sloane reach for her hand on the table. “We’ve been practicing and up-ing our equipment like mad, there’s no way we won’t win--so you’ve  _ gotta _ come see us!”

“Get Barry and Julia to work that day!” Lup chimed in suddenly, as if she’d had a great idea. She practically leaned over the table to speak to the three of them as if they couldn’t hear her already shouting from where she was sitting. “I’ve got nothin’ to do that day, I’ll hang out in the store with them and you two can go--me and Bear went last year, yeah?”

The idea that had just been joking before was suddenly turned serious, and John was surprised to discover they were actually expecting him to answer immediately. He nearly jumped when he noticed all four of them staring at him. “I… yeah, sure, why not?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Hurley threw up her hands in a tipsy cheer, yanking Sloane up accidentally with her. Lup laughed and clapped as if she was part of the plans they’d made. With a wide, sly grin, Merle lifted up the last shot in the row and held it out for John to tap with his own.

John took his shot first, downing it with relative ease compared to the others.

Merle laughed after his. “Then it’s a date!”

And there it was. 

John was able to stifle a cough into one hand while the other sank into his pocket, pressing into the device with a panicked flurry he hoped wasn’t too obvious. His body seized up momentarily as his pulse stopped… and came back.

John forced himself to speak before he was able, trying to diffuse the situation before it became an event. “I believe… I’ll have to admit defeat for tonight,” he said, and if Hurley’s laughter was anything to go off of, it worked just fine. He was thankful that the cough he’d just had was only a few small petals and could be hidden with the device in his pocket. Merle laughed as well, but was quieter, obviously more concerned for John than the rest with his ‘knowledge’ about the man’s ‘illness.’ He almost felt bad for lying, but the alternative was worse.

Across the table, he could see Lup watching him with suddenly sympathetic eyes. She faked a smile quickly and stood from the table. “Hey, John, come with me, I wanted to show you something cool here!”

Had the alcohol not made its way around, the signs would be obvious to anyone. Still, he nodded and stood to join her, giving his partings to the rest of the table as he followed the elf into the kitchen where Taako was cooking again. If he noticed them entering, he didn’t say anything about it.

Lup’s shoulders sank as soon as they were behind the wall separating the kitchen from the dining area. “That was the second one tonight--and how many did you use earlier today?”

Now in private, John retrieved the magical device from his pocket and observed it. “One,” he answered.

“We’re not gonna be in the lab until Monday, whatever charges you’ve got on that thing are gonna have to last you the rest of the weekend,” she sighed, standing in front of John to look at the same contraption she’d given him weeks ago. “I can always just use spells directly, here--”

“No, that would be too obvious.” Even slightly drunk, John knew that. There was a great difference between a wizard using a spell in public and a hidden device administering spells already cast from another location. Downloaded spells, in a way. Bluetooth spells. “I’ll… be fine. I’ll just take tomorrow off.”

“That’s the second time this week,” Taako chirped from across the kitchen, eyes not leaving the pan in front of him. Even drunk he was still able to cook without a problem.

“I have a ‘chronic illness.’”

Taako snorted and pointed at John with a wink. “ _ That’s _ my boy.”

“You two are horrid!”

They both turned to Lup, who John had hardly spoken to much before all of this. It was obvious much of her doting on him was repressed from when Taako had been cursed. John wasn’t sure if he should be uncomfortable with the youthful elf taking him on as a brother-figure, although she was technically much older.

She crossed her arms and glared at the both of them as John shuffled closer towards Taako. At least he understood where John was coming from. “You’re just--going to live like this?” she asked incredulously,.

Confused on why she was suddenly involved, John squinted at her. “I don’t have much say in my current situation. There isn’t really another ‘option.’”

She started speaking loudly before she remembered they weren’t too far from the others. Lup readjusted her volume, but continued speaking passionately. “This isn’t any way to live, John!”

_ ‘What would you know,’  _ he wanted to ask her. From his understanding, Lup was still a carrier of the curse but avoided it as she fell in easy, returned love with Barry early on. There had been some waiting, but it was never unrequited, and they were living in a fairytale happily ever after. What  _ could _ she know?

In some other life or different turn of events, he may have listened to Lup. But right now, they had only known each other for so long and he had already met one person he could confide in about his issues--he didn’t need another. Strengthening his resolve, John shook his head and made to leave the kitchen. “We live very different lives, Lup. I’m fine.”

He felt bitterness towards others and hated himself for it.

Never before had he seen couples happy together and felt envious, yet now, it was all he could think. It didn’t come from any yearning to be in a relationship with Merle, but the simplicity of such an easy, normal situation… the idea that people could just fall in love and take it at their own pace without worrying about when they might suffocate or be poisoned by their own feelings? It was hard to imagine.

Perhaps also in some other life, a different turn of events, things would’ve been different for them as well.

John took his seat across from Merle once again, already preparing himself another drink to drown out the uncomfortable feeling from Lup’s confrontation.

He didn’t bother listening to whatever conversation the others were having now and swam in his own mind for lack of any other safe option. Glancing up at Merle, the dwarf was completely immersed in some story Davenport had begun while he was away. He laughed at the right moments and slapped the gnome’s back once, emotions easy and open.

What would they be like if John wasn’t cursed?

He wouldn’t have realized his emotions as quickly as he had, probably not even now, months down the line. Would he even admit he had romantic feelings for Merle if there was not some supernatural curse forcing him to see reason? It might take a while, much longer than it did now--but he wouldn’t be constrained by his own expiration date. They might’ve had the time to cultivate whatever… this could have been. And it would take time to convince Merle to involve himself in anything romantic ever again after his previous exploits.

It would be a long journey, and there wasn’t even a guarantee they got together in the end. Somehow, John was fine with that. He would have been content simply to be able to live with the small fondness for the dwarf just everpresent in his daily life and nothing more.

“Hey, John?” Merle’s voice returned him from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Merle staring at him. He raised his brows for the other to continue. “It’s getting pretty late, you ready to head home?”

A million alarms went off in John’s head.

Last month, he let Merle walk him home from the party then as they usually did.

He’d ended up in a messy pile at his foyer coughing as soon as he slammed the door close. His hand felt at the device in his pocket--there was only one more charge left, and he would probably need it before he even left this restaurant. Work would definitely be impossible tomorrow unless he stopped by Taako’s place for some illusion magic between breaks, and even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“I really ought to get back,” John said as he stood, and whipped out an arm to stop Merle who also made a move to get up. “Don’t, uh--don’t worry about it, our homes are in different directions, anyways.” He didn’t miss the look of disappointment overshadowed by confusion on Merle’s face. The dwarf appeared as if he was ready to protest but nodded and slowly sat back down.

“Alright… I’ll see you at work tomorrow then, okay?”

_ You won’t. _

“Right. Good night, everyone,” he said with a vague wave to the rest of the table as John turned his back on the room and walked to the door. He could feel a wave of unease sweep over his body and dove into his pocket to use the last charge he had once he was outside. He took a deep breath to survive the irregular pulse for a few moments before he shook his head and continued on his way home.

Of course he didn’t go to work the next day.

Given he already had Monday off, John didn’t return to Bougainvillea until Tuesday when he had a fully charged spellcaster and the personal resolve to make it through the day with sheer determination alone. The small break had been sorely needed, spent in his home with large pots of tea and books he hadn’t had time to reread in weeks. It was as if John was holing up in the barracks before setting out for war the next day--as every day felt, recently.

The days by himself were not so bad if he could keep himself distracted. He read more, and sometimes he went so far as to just going to Taako’s restaurant and helping the elf with whatever he needed. Recently they’d just been painting, and Taako expressed his gratitude for the other’s help as well as his support. John knew that meant Taako had done similar things, drowning out thoughts of his loved one with other activities. In reality, he’d probably gone to help Lup with her research for his own sake. Now that John ran into her often at Taako’s place, he was forced to regard her in a new light.

It was funny how a not uncommon curse so easily dominated one’s entire life.

Out there, other people were going through similar experiences--not the same, but similar. John was still unique in his age and outlook on life. He’d picked up a few novels about the idea of one conducting hanahaki later on in life, though he quickly put them back when he realized they were just romance novels about finding love in one’s golden years. None of them understood what it meant to have gone so many decades with no romantic, familial, or friendly connections. They were almost offensive, if only he cared enough.

Spellcaster in his pocket, John set off to the store for work after sending Merle a text telling him he was coming in.

“Did the doctor say anything interesting?” Merle asked almost as soon as he was in the front door.

John had prepared his excuses. “If I want to get drunk it appears I will simply have to inject alcohol directly into my veins next time.”

Merle chuckled, and immediately John was on guard. Usually the florist would laugh loud and without reservation at anything snarky or funny he said. The only time he chuckled or laughed so quietly was if he were in the midst of an emotion.

He tried to pass it off and hoped it wouldn’t come up again. John unbutton his jacket and slid on the simple green apron he wore for arranging. The caster was in the same pocket as his phone, indistinguishable from the outside, and he ran his finger along the side absentmindedly. He had five charges for today and he’d already made it past one obligatory encounter with Merle, aka, an anticipated high stress event. That meant he was already one charge ahead of himself, and he might be able to relax a bit more today.

John picked up the organized stack of orders for today and began reading through them. They were at the point now where he and Merle could easily switch between front counter and arrangements, as John had finally gotten the small piece to ‘click’ and was able to create displays himself. Albeit he didn’t believe they were anywhere near as emotional or beautiful as Merle’s, but that could be chocked up to experience.

He set the rest down with one in his hand (an anniversary) and backtracked through previous orders in his head. With vague clients like this, there was no shame in reusing old designs and so on; if it’s isn’t broke, don’t fix it. 

It didn’t take very long to finish with that in mind. He was able to complete orders in under half an hour if he really focused, and John felt a bit of pride swell up in the back of his mind as he tagged the finished arrangement. If he put his mind to it, he could probably do the rest of the orders they needed done tonight by himself. It would definitely surprise Merle, and definitely show he was more than capable of acting on his own now.

John carried the vase by its bottom in one hand as he opened the refrigerator, sprucing up the flowers in it as he set it down. They would be working late tonight, so he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted with it.

As he turned to leave, a dark, irregular arrangement in the back of the fridge caught John’s eye.

Without the help of the spellcaster, his heart stopped.

Vervain.

Cyclamen.

Chrysanthemum.

Scabiosa. 

They were all gathered together in one forsaken display.

John could feel his insides stirring, as if his organs were at war between coughing up more petals or simply vomiting his breakfast on the cooler’s floor.

Even without the knowledge of what those flowers meant, the arrangement was a nightmare. The majority was made up of dark scabiosa flowers and red cyclamen poking out from between them, with two large yellow chrysanthemums on one side. It was an oddly bright patch in the dark bouquet, accompanied by small vervain flowers sprinkled throughout.

The colors were all over the place. It clashed. There was no rhyme or reason to anything within it.

And they were all flowers John had forced from his throat--all besides one.

At the top was a patch of white camellias. They were the only standouts, the only thing that didn’t make sense, and John approached the arrangement slowly as if it might attack him. He already had a hand deep in his pocket, just in case, as he reached for the tag.

“Shit, I knew I forgot to put that somewhere else.”

John registered Merle’s voice behind him, but focused instead on the words on the paper in his hand.

‘ _ For John _ .’

“What… is this?” John could hardly hear his own voice, and it was a surprise Merle could.

The dwarf groaned and came up beside him, grabbing the vase and taking it out with him to the workroom where John dutifully followed out of the cold. “It’s… to celebrate your whatever month anniversary working here?”

John quirked a brow.

Merle sighed and lifted a hand to pick at his beard for lack of anything to do. He avoided John’s eye, as if he was… embarrassed?

“Alright, I just wanted to do something for you, okay?” he admitted as if confessing to a crime. “I know you’re going through some really tough shit right now, John, and…”

The hand in his pocket nearly spasmed with the speed he pressed the button down.

Deep breath.

Count, one, two… and his heartbeat returned.

“...I don’t know. I was thinking about that conversation we had a while ago, yeah? About if you could make arrangements based off of people or just your feelings about them. So I,” he gestured with a vague wave to the flowers, “gave it a try.”

John’s eyes widened as he took in the arrangement as if for the first time again. This was… him? This was what Merle saw?

His finger jumped back over the button, summoning another spell.

Deep… breath?

Count, one, two… one, two… and it was back.

“I know this is really… cheesy, or whatever, but you've been gone, John. You've been closing back in on yourself, and I'm worried about you; I miss you.”

Click.

Shaky breath.

He gripped the device tightly and used his other hand to hold onto the table with white knuckles.

One, two. Pulse.

But Merle didn't stop there. It was as if a dam had been broken, and he was finally speaking freely. “I know I've already told you I'm here and you might just not want to talk but… I wanted to do something to cheer you up.”

“I--I don't get it,” John sputtered, “really, I told you I'm fine, Merle--"

“John,” the serious tone in Merle’s voice surprised John, shutting him up immediately. Despite their differences in height, the other was staring him down, and John felt himself shrink back.

Merle sighed before continuing, rubbing his head.

“We've been friends for months, John… and whether you like it or not, we  _ are  _ friends. And I know you--you  _ let  _ me know you, John! I can't just sit around when you've been hurting like this and closing in on yourself for two months!”

Another click.

John's chest tightened and he hissed, counting faster for his heartbeat to return.

One, two, three… four, four five.

But Merle didn't stop. John clamped a hand over his mouth and averted his eyes. “Everyone is worried, but--fuck, so am I. I care about you, John, and I, I thought it was mutual, and we were really growing closer--"

“Please stop.”

It clicked and clicked and clicked, but no magic came out of the device. In less than ten minutes he had used all four charges he had for the day, and John felt desperate. He feared he might vomit before he coughed petals. 

Merle was staring up at him with an unreadable expression, and John wanted to yell at him. He had been able to avoid any serious conversations for the past few weeks for this very reason, knowing he wouldn’t survive it. Now they had all been piled onto one; Merle was  _ worried _ about him.

Merle cared about him. What did that even mean?

The dwarf must have realized something was wrong (how could he not?) as he approached John with a tentative hand out, as if he might bite. “John… look--”

John shrugged off his hand before he could be touched and quickly turned on heel. “I have to go,” he mumbled, already out of breath as he all but ran out of the store for what must’ve been the umpteeth instance now.

He hardly had an excuse this time.

He heard Merle yell after him, apologizing for something, but the dwarf didn’t follow him. It was good that he didn’t, seeing as John wasn’t headed for his home today. He took a different turn and walked quickly, hand over his mouth as his eyes water from the pain in his throat. A cough wrenched its way from his lungs, and he caught the petals quickly in his hand and shoved them into his pocket.

No matter how familiar the sensation became, it never became any more comfortable.

John tried to imagine a different scenario in which he’d made right choices. Should he have acted better, gone out with Merle more so he didn’t get concerned? Should he have committed to his illness spiel and gone all out with it? There was no telling--there was no meaning, either. What’s done had already been done, and John had to live with the consequences.

What were the consequences?

If need be, he could always quit. There was no real reason for him to stay at the store if it was only causing him so much pain. If he never saw Merle again… he wouldn’t be able to be hurt again. He could live in quiet peacefully for the rest of his mortal days, as he had been expected to. No flowers, no friends, no lost loves… just books and himself.

Did he still want that?

John threw the door open to Taako’s restaurant, not caring how it slammed against the wall. He didn’t even think of the possibility that Taako might not be here until he saw that he was, and felt relieved. As soon as he was in front of the elf he fell to his knees in front of him, not listening to his protests or questions over the sound of his heart in his ears.

“I need… a spell, a… something, anything, please…” he could hear himself saying, and John didn’t bother shrugging off Taako’s hands on his arms.

The first cough finally came out with a rough noise from his throat, sending petals to the floor. John followed the impulses of his body to crouch over and shook with the willingness of a man too tired to fight any longer.

“Please…”

Was this what his life was going to be like until he died?

John felt the flower in his throat come up and out of his mouth, though he was unable to see it as a comforting wave of magic was suddenly drawn over his body and he was put to sleep.

As he lost consciousness, John became vaguely aware of the fact Taako’s voice sounded slightly higher than he remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again you have no idea how much fun i have writing this. ive mentioned that i have really detailed outlines written for this, and yet they keep changing and being added to. for instance, lup wasn't supposed to be relevant at all. julia either. a ton of things i wrote just as filler or whatever have come back around and made this more satisfying than i thought it'd be lol
> 
> thanks for reading!! if you want to hang out i'm [ludella](ludella.tumblr.com) on tumblr


	10. Month 6 - Same Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit this is so close to being done, just a few more, guys!!

_ “Hey, uhh… fuck, this thing isn’t even on, is it…” _

_ The screen shook around, and with it, a large amount of static noise and rustling blew up the speakers. _

_ When it stopped shaking, the camera jerked over to a scene that could actually be deciphered. On the screen, a man stood alone in a clean room, lit only by a single lamp. A window was to his side, and it was obviously late at night from the darkness outside. The man was leaned forward, still fiddling with the camera, and finally pulled away when it was fully focused. _

_ He adjusted his glasses before continuing. _

_ “Once again, my name is Johann. This is the twelfth weekly video diary documenting my experience with hanahaki. I included links to my previous videos with notes I’ve been keeping, and I…” _

_ His voice cracked at the end, and the professional facade he had been holding up quickly fell. _

_ “I will be dying very soon.” _

_ He stopped moving. Slowly, he brought a hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses; his hand stayed there as he kept speaking. _

_ “I have done… all that I can, throughout the course of the previous twelve weeks. I have--I have avoided the person in question, and gone through every spell and charm in existence trying to end this. I have considered going through with the counterspell, but… I know what it does. I’ve seen it.” _

_ He took a deep breath, and exhaled quietly. Finally, his hand slid down from his face, and his tired eyes were visible once more.  _

_ “A man I once knew went through the same thing, his name is Jenkins. He decided to get that spell, and he… he hasn’t been the same ever since. I can’t do it, I can’t… do that. To take away love and all of that would take away my, my music, my everything…” _

_ On the recommendations sidebar, there were indeed links to multiple videos by the same person. It was primarily a channel for different covers and posting original songs the man wrote. He had a decent sized following. _

_ “I’ve decided it’s best to let things run its course, and I’m coming to terms with… knowing I will die. I probably won’t get to post another video next week, so I’m posting all of them now. If I even make it to next week, that person will probably see all of these and find out it’s them anyways, right?” _

_ He sighed. _

_ “That’s why this is going to be my last song. I’ve sat on it for a long time now, perfecting it, and even if it isn’t really ready, I’m not going to get another chance. So here it goes.” _

_ He reached down and pulled up a violin from below where the camera cut off. _

_ “For the person I’ll have died for; ‘Brian with an I’.” _

The video stuck with John.

He thought about it much more recently, as he began numbering the days until he had to make a decision.

There wasn’t much time left, he continued to think while doing nothing. He’d have to take action soon. At some point, definitely.

But fate took course before he could do anything, leaving John at the mercy of the world as he collapsed on the floor of Taako’s place.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital.

It didn’t come as a surprise.

As soon as John realized where he was, he closed his eyes once again and relaxed back into the stiff white bed. There was no point in putting up any kind of resistance or asking any questions--he knew why he was here, and he knew where this was going to end up. It had only been a matter of time, days, even.

What does surprise him is the voice beside his bed.

“Hey, don’t go fallin’ back to sleep now, old man--you’ve been out all night.”

His eyes opened again, albeit reluctantly, to meet Taako’s gaze.

Thankfully, only Taako was in the room, and he breathed out a sigh of relief at the fact he wouldn’t have to deal with more people than absolutely necessary. It made focusing on recovery easier, that was for sure. “Lup called me while I was picking Ango up from practice,” Taako explained. “She said you rushed into the restaurant and collapsed in front of her--I’d laugh at you for mistaking us if you weren’t like, in the hospital right now, by the way.”

John hummed his shame.

“You’re pretty far along in the life cycle of the curse. What are you thinking, John?”

“Nothing.”

Taako’s eyes squinted accusingly at him. “Dude, you can’t just play off--”

“I’m serious, I’m not thinking about… anything.”

There was too much and too little happening at the same to process anything right now. It would hit later, surely, and John would have to deal with the entire weight of the situation at that time. What it meant to be in the hospital, his time limit, his symptoms, leaving work, Merle… there was a lot of things to think through and sort in his mind. It felt like moving from organized, digital filing systems at his old office to the scattered paper documents of Bougainvillea. He never did convince Merle to change that.

When Taako didn’t respond, John asked another question. “Have any doctors come by recently?”

“One did when I got here--you’re not in critical or anything, so don’t worry about dying just yet.” It wasn’t as relieving as it should be. “They said it was a combination of flowers choking you out and an irregular pulse, though that last part has nothing to do with hanahaki and probably more with the spellcaster.”

“Probably.”

This was the first time he’d been in the hospital in… decades, probably. Like everything else about him, John’s health was as standard and normal as they came; not perfect, but not horrid. The change in environment alone was enough of a wake up call, and John kept his eyes clenched shut, unwilling to see it.

“I think… I might die like this, Taako.”

“No, you won't,” came his immediate answer. “That shit is for romantic douchebags--you won't let  _ love  _ kill you, John.”

He was right. John couldn’t dispute that.

He lifted his hands to dig his palms into his closed eyes, letting out an exasperated groan. There was no getting out of this--if the reality of the situation hadn’t been present before, it was now. He heard Taako sigh before the sound of a chair scooting back, and peered from behind his hands to see the elf standing.

“I’ll, uh, give you some time to yourself?”

John nodded.

Taako didn’t waste another second leaving the room.

Emotions weren’t either of their strong suits, and he knew both of them were relieved to be free of the awkward interactions. He wasn’t sure whether or not he would call Taako a friend just yet, since most of their conversations and time together revolved around exchanging information, but he had shared more about himself with the chef than anybody else. It’s… a strange relationship, and John didn’t mind it if he didn’t think about it too hard.

If he survived, he would have to make friends for real.

John reached below the sheets he was under and felt at his pockets, feeling both the spellcaster and phone still there. He pulled the latter out and checked his notifications.

Missed Calls.  
**Taako: 2  
** **Julia: 1  
** **Merle: 3**

Unread Messages.  
**Taako: 4  
** **Sloane: 1  
** **Merle: 4**

Without reading any of them, he opened Merle’s contact and began writing a text, not even glancing at the messages above that the dwarf had sent.

**‘I will be out of work for medical reasons for an undetermined amount of time. Apologies.’**

* * *

****A night in the hospital bled into two days, from two days to three, and three to an entire week.

It turned out, manually controlling your pulse for a month straight had dire effects on one's heart. Funny how that worked. There were also the expected torn tissue and abrasion in his lungs and windpipe that needed work, and until his heart was stabilized, everything he ate and did was monitored by nurses. At this stage in the curse, afflicted others like himself were typically given their own choice on how long they stayed in the hospital, given they could afford it. John had nothing but money and no reason to leave when he still felt so… weak.

For hanahaki victims, certain drugs and spells would be administered to lessen the chances of petal expulsion fits. John was hardly lucid whenever Taako or Lup came to visit, which wasn't all too often. He wouldn't give his room number to anyone besides them.

On day five, John groggily lifted his phone close to his face to read the notifications.

__ Missed Calls  
**Merle: 3  
** **Barry: 1  
** **Julia: 1**

__ Unread messages  
**Merle: 5  
** **Hurley: 2  
** **Sloane: 1  
** **Taako: 1**

He opened the one from Taako.

**“hey I got somethin to drop off but im busy with sis so krav is gonna stop by dw abt him"**

John couldn’t say he was happy about the unexpected visitor, but it wasn’t like he could just say ‘no thanks, I’m good’ and move along. He had met Kravitz a few times, never all too personally as he had no good reason to come into the store by himself. A lot of their guests were directly related to the employees of Bougainvillea, and now that Taako didn’t work there anymore, the man had no reason for flowers--though he  _ did _ call in for an arrangement once.

John wondered if that bouquet, likely for Taako, had anything to do with their history with hanahaki. Frankly, John would be happy if he never saw another flower in his life once all of this was over. If it ever ended properly, that was.

A nurse came in for a few minutes with lunch and John was left alone to wait out the rest of the time until another more polite knock sounded on the door. John called them in, and so Kravitz entered, looking out of place and awkward as he did. This really was the first time the two of them were speaking privately, more so now that nobody else was here at all. John didn’t mind it--he didn’t really care about a lot of things now that his life was so far out on the line. Drugs helped.

Kravitz, evidently, did still care for social niceties.

“I hope you’re feeling better, recently,” Kravitz said as he set a small box by the chair next to the bed and sat down. John presumed the box was likely the object Taako needed delivered.

“More so than previously, yes.” It helped he was barely lucid half the time. The only way to combat a curse based on thoughts was to get rid of thoughts, after all. He lifted a hand to point to the box weakly. “Is that what Taako needed?”

“Oh, yes!” Kravitz leaned back down to pick it up, as if he’d forgotten why he even came and undid the top. “Your first gift to liven up your room.”

Once he saw just the tops of the flowers poking out of the package, John knew he was done in.

It was a small vase of red and yellow tulips. With just a glance, he could tell who it was from.

Of course, Kravitz didn’t know, and he continued speaking as he set the small vase up on a table beside the bed. “Your coworkers pass their condolences and ask you to text back. At least, that’s what I was told to say.”

John nodded, a hand lightly pressed over his mouth as he held his breath.

His other hand twitched with the need to press a button, to stop his pulse, or do anything to prevent the inevitable. He settled for pressing his IV drip and waiting for his arm to go cold. A hospital was the best place to have a fit if any, and once Kravitz was gone, he could simply call in a nurse and ask to be put to sleep instead.

Except Kravitz sat back down. And didn’t leave at all.

John stared at him with squinted eyes, confused by the sudden normalcy with which the other was acting when John had wanted that awkwardness to force him out of the room.

“You can cough,” Kravitz said with a calmness he couldn’t comprehend, “I actually wanted to, uh… talk to you, if you didn’t mind.”

That was even more surprising. Nevertheless, it wasn’t as if John could just suppress his symptoms now or on any other whim before. Kravitz remained quiet as John ducked his head into his elbow and promptly began to cough. It was becoming the most familiar thing he could do here in these pale white rooms.

It didn’t last as long as usual events would, given the cause was a mere thought more than an action. John found a glass of water being pressed into his hand once he regained his breath and nodded his thanks to Kravitz, unable to speak just yet. “What is it?” he asked after a long drink. 

“I kind of tricked Taako into letting me come in here, but he mentioned what was happening--don’t look like that, it’s between the two of us, and I didn’t even know it was you until he asked me to drop this off!”

“So if you didn’t know who was here, why bother?” John was much more tired already and in less of a mood for playing polite games when he was, frankly, incredibly cranky.

Kravitz bit his lip nervously, eyes averted for a moment before returning to John. “Taako told me what he said to you about the curse, and his experience.”

“And?”

“I disagree with him; I wanted to give my own side to the story.”

Immediately, John started to close off whatever he had just been about to open to Kravitz. Vulnerability and help be damned, what was the man talking about? “Taako was in the same position as myself and had similar experiences--I trust his word.” And he didn’t want to hear what somebody else who couldn’t relate at all had to say.

The community around hanahaki only came up recently and was very odd, given the life expectancy and mortality rate of the curse. People would become incredibly involved for the few months they had it, and then separated into communities based around 1) finding love during, 2) living with the counterspell, or 3) being dead. 

For the first two options as well as the overall hanahaki community itself, the opinions of outsiders were very much unwelcome.

And John agreed with the standard; other people could never understand the constant fear and pressure it provided with its symptoms alone, let alone the implications of its appearance in the first place. The concept was very much over romanticized by those who never encountered it.

“No, I understand that, however…” Kravitz appeared to struggle finding his next words and took a deep breath. “He’s very… pessimistic. I didn’t want him to impress that same idea onto you, because even though we’ve turned out just fine, he--” A pause. Kravitz was wringing his hands in his lap, looking away. “If not for my confessing, and Angus telling me in the first place, Taako would have died.”

John already knew that. Taako had high walls around his emotions, but he still possessed them, and the inability to feel love would be a fate worse than death for the elf with so many friends and loved ones. He would have let himself die instead of taking the counterspell, by all means.

John was a different story.

“I wanted to tell you that… good things can still come of this.” The young man was still going on, though John was beginning to zone out, equal parts narcotics and purposefully not wanting to hear it. “It may feel like this only affects you, but you haven’t even talked to the subject of your affections about this, have you? Taako never did, but if he had--we would’ve been spared a lot of trouble.”

“My situation is quite different.”

Kravitz nodded. “Undoubtedly. But if you’re just planning on dying or forgetting love entirely, would it… really hurt to confess how you feel anyways? Of every option, it has the highest chance of success.”

It sounded so simple.

It would be so simple.

But reality didn’t play that nice.

If the chances of unhappiness were 100% for death and the counterspell, then it was only a given others would put focus on the other ‘option,’ confessing. If it went well, then everything would be fine and one could earn their fairytale ending. If not… John had read many accounts of those that did not. Not only did one have to deal with the rejection and having their heart broken, but the flowers and plants that came up were the most painful of them all. They would kill only after the victim had suffered greatly, by themselves, without anyone or any chance in the world.

It was horrifying.

Ready for the conversation to be over, John exhaled slowly and rubbed at his forehead. “Thank you, Kravitz, it is… kind of you to come by.”

At the very least, he got the message. Kravitz didn’t say another word as he stood from his seat and started towards the door. “You have my support if you need anything, John. Just please hold out hope. As cliche as it is, try giving your head a break and think with your heart for once. It might surprise you.”

And the door closed.

The feeling of helplessness was not one John was familiar with. Given there were not many obstacles or imbalances in his life, he was well aware of his own ability to leave or change his mind at any given moment. He had ways out of everything--if he didn’t enjoy his job, he could quit, if he didn’t like where he lived, he could move. He never wanted for anything material, but asked for all he never knew.

The more he learned of a world he never knew, the world of common,  _ normal _ people, the harder it became to pull himself out, and fate locked him in.

There was no escaping hanahaki. There was no eject button, no reset, no redo, and no easy way out. If he ignored it, it wouldn’t go away--it would catch up and eat him whole. He had to make a decision for his own wellbeing, and soon.

John hadn’t been able to think clearly the past week, and now, once again, with medication clouding his mind, he tried again.

If he didn’t come up with his own decision, life would choose for him.

No ‘good’ options existed; it was a matter of picking his poison.

With a weak grip, John picked up his phone, and began clearing the unread notifications. His last call had been from Barry a few hours ago, and the last text from Sloane.

He didn’t have any reason not to read her message.

**“Hey, I’ve heard a bit about your illness. I hope you’re able to recover quickly--if you can get a day out, come to the race. Me and Hurley will make it worth your while. Plus we miss you.”**

He opened Hurley’s next.

**“Get well soon, John. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, right now. Text me if you need anything, my older sister has similar chronic upper respiratory issues! I’ll look up her doctor if you want.”**

**“If things aren’t that serious, let us take you to our race next weekend. It’ll be fun, promise.”**

There were three options before him.

First, he died. John didn’t do anything, decision or not, and ends up the same way as a victim of his denied emotions. He waited day after day for the curse to finally take him and end his pain.

Second, he obtained the counterspell. John would never feel love again, which was already a feeling he hadn’t been too familiar with before. Basically, his life would return to normal--in an endless search for value and meaning where there were none.

Third… he didn't know.

He would need more information to decide.

For the first time this week, John began to read through the messages Merle had sent.

Tuesday. That was the day he had stormed out and collapsed.  
4:15PM.  **“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what happened back there, but I’m sorry, John. Think we can talk?”  
** 6:46PM.  **“I’ll give you space and won’t bring it up tomorrow, but promise me we can talk about it sometime, okay?”**

Wednesday.  
10:11AM.  **“John??? Are you coming into work today?”  
** 12:02PM. **“I know you don’t disappear for no reason. Did something happen?”  
** 1:35PM. “I will be out of work for medical reasons for an undetermined amount of time. Apologies.”  
1:37PM.  **“Where are you? Are you at home right now, John?”  
** 2:01PM.  **“You aren’t. Are you in a hospital? What’s going on John, for the love of god, don’t close me out now.”  
** 10:54PM.  **“I’m worried you bastard.”**

Thursday.  
1:43PM.  **“John I don’t know what I did to make you upset but I’m sorry, honestly. I’ve been trying really hard to not ruin this thing we’ve got goin, I don’t want to lose it now. I’ll give you space while you recover. If you could, text me how you’re doing from time to time, I’m worried about you. And if you decide to give me a hospital and room number, I’ll be over in no time, broom of flying and all.”**

Friday.

Saturday.  
11:32PM.  **“Just one text, John. Please.”**

Sunday.

_ Try giving your head a break and think with your heart for once. _

He glanced over at the flowers on the table beside him, remembering a gift from his previous boss and a card with opportunities on it. It was the only color in the room, once again. But back then, John had taken his chances.

Today.  
3:44PM. “Are you still going to Hurley and Sloane’s race this weekend?”  
3:45PM.  **“Yep.”  
** 3:45PM. “Neverwinter East Medical Center. #316. No broom of flying, please.”

For the first time in fifty years, it was time to try being in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's ready to go on a romantic date to a drag race
> 
> i am.


	11. Month 6 - Nitpick Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there everybody welcome to ZoT im your host ludella this is the fic where the plot is made up and the chapter count doesnt matter

It was a nice day for a race, if John knew what a day for a race was supposed to constitute.

Today was the first time he ventured out of the hospital since he was admitted, and although he planned on returning later that evening, the breath of fresh air he received upon walking outside was a welcome relief. It did little to soothe his nerves, though.

John had three options in front of him for his future.

First, he could die.

Second, he could get the counterspell.

This was an experiment today to test out the third--a confession, and a life full of love.

They agreed to meet outside of the hospital, as John didn’t want the shame of meeting in his own room. He dressed in one of the new casual polos he had gotten over the past few months for the sake of not being mocked by Merle at barbecues, and left to wait outside.

They didn’t text much after John first responded, simply making plans and leaving the rest up to fate.

Today would be tense. There were a lot of unresolved matters between them, and it’d been well over a week since seeing each other, the longest they’d gone since John started working at Bougainvillea. A week of Merle worrying and John ignoring him on purpose, a week of John rotting in the hospital and planning how he wanted to meet his possible demise. It ended up feeling like much longer than ten or so days since they last saw each other, and John couldn’t help but feel… anxious. It made sense, in a way, given this also constituted as a trial for the concept of romance in general.

“It’s good to see you haven’t kicked the bucket,” Merle said when he arrived, and John stood from the bench he was sat on to greet him with a smile. 

“Unfortunately for you, I still have some time left on my clock.”

Merle laughed and bumped into his hip as he kept walking ahead, John following after down the sidewalk. “Shut up, you prick.”

The race was taking place just outside of the city in some deserted used-to-be-a-junkyard. They’re able to take a bus the majority of the way there and have to walk the rest themselves. From how Merle explained it, it was a damn long race, and there was no way they’d be able to see the entire thing. Even the finish line was majorly crowded by other supporters and the ‘officiators’ of the illegal event.

They decided to sit out a way before the finish line, far from the others, but close enough to see the cars whenever they passed by. Merle thankfully came prepared for the day with a bag full of food, drinks, and a blanket to sit on, and they laughed about their elderly picnic while clinking glasses of wine.

“You had no idea if I’d had lunch today. Maybe I already did.”

“If you’d prefer to have hospital food on your stomach, be my guest, freak.”

It’s a good day for a race.

It’s a good day for a good day.

The sun was high in the sky, not too hot, and the ground was not uncomfortable to sit on. They chat as if nothing ever happened over wine and sandwiches, all the while watching as cars drove past and made their many laps around the track.

It was the first time John had been out of the hospital since being admitted.

It was also the longest conversation he’d had in weeks, and the ability to speak and hear had never been so nice to have. Like this, he could pretend there was no such thing as a curse, no pain waiting for him back at the hospital, and he would go to work the next day to continue his life as normal.

The fact the shop had become his ‘normal’ was still something he was getting used to.

“It really sucks,” Merle sighed, “I have to keep calling Barry in, but he and Lup are apparently getting to something really cool with their work.”

Guilt immediately washed over John, and his smile faltered. “I’m… sorry, about that.”

“Nah,” Merle waved it off, hitting John’s arm, “gotta blame it on Sloane for being gone, too!”

Except Sloane wasn’t the center and cause for their current research.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, John settled for taking a small bite of his food and watching the race in front of them. They’d just finished their second lap. There was still a good amount of time left of the race--there was still more time for them together.

“I missed you, John.”

“I’ve only been out for a week.”

“No; you’ve been checked out a lot longer than that.”

John conceded that.

The past few months, they had been talking, but never truly speaking. The aimless chitchat of work and weather and so on was the only thing John could maintain to keep himself from coughing flower petals all over the shop’s floor. Boring, fast-food conversation was a safety net where he could still be present but not at high risk of collapsing on the floor.

He didn’t enjoy it.

It was more effort than he put into talking with his coworkers at the office, but it was still nothing at all. It was effort for the sake of not being hurt, more than anything, and he hated it just as much as it appeared Merle also did.

John missed Merle too.

He missed having a friend--his best friend, really, to talk with and be able to open up to. Their witty banter was replaced with stale comments, their existential debates substituted with talk of their coworkers, and their emotional conversations devolved into discussing work.

A while ago, John decided he would give himself this day to try out being in love and accepting it.

Now was the time to give it a shot.

“I’ve lived a lot of my life alone, Merle.”

The dwarf didn’t say anything.

“I went to school, graduated, got a job, and the last thirty years of my life are just bland blocks of history with nothing in between. I didn’t have friends, didn’t do anything, didn’t have fun for so long. And I can admit I only started having fun when I began working at the store.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you start enjoying life.”

“It took a while to learn how to express it.”

Merle nodded in understanding.

So John kept speaking, needing each and every word off of his chest for the first time in his life. “I never had an issue with how I lived, though. It’s just the way I was. There was nothing special to it, but I was by no means happy about it, either. I was always looking for something  _ more _ …”

It was something of a miracle how thirty years could pass by so quickly without one noticing. If John tried to think back on it, he could hardly recall anything interesting that happened. Small events, instances, yes, but none ever having to do with himself. 

The other twenty years of his life weren’t any more interesting, and the events he experienced then were no different from anyone else’s; first job, graduating high school, entering college, and so on. They were milestones, but not interesting by any means.

Up until now, his entire history was monochrome, set in black and white to the tune of absolutely nothing.

“I’ve never had an interesting life, Merle. I’ve never had fun, or friends, or anything--it sounds sad, but I don’t dwell on it. More so, I’m able to appreciate what I have now in comparison to what I didn’t before.”

Merle interrupted him. “I was the same, you know.”

It was surprising, but John gave him the chance to speak for himself.

“Before I met the boys, Taako and Magnus, I didn’t… I wasn’t a very good person, John.” Merle’s voice was quiet, in such a foreign way, and he felt slightly worried. 

But it meant what John had hoped for--Merle probably didn’t open up to anyone about the same issues, and John was hearing it first. It was a selfish desire to be special to him. 

“I was a deadbeat dad, a runaway preacher, a shitty husband… all my life I tried to fill my time with things I thought I was supposed to do, you know? Go into religion like the family, get married, have kids, live happily ever after in a house on the prairie and all. So I did. I won’t say it was a mistake, because I love my kids more than anything in the world.”

The fondness in Merle’s face made John smile.

_ I love you. _

“But all those things didn’t make me happy. It wasn’t until I met Taako and Magnus, and Dav and Lucretia, and everybody… friendship gets underappreciated these days. I’m a better person because of them, and they’re honestly the best things that ever happened to this old dwarf. I didn’t get them until later in my life, though.”

“Don’t believe in the powers of true love and romance?”

“Actually,” Merle turned to face John, smile on his lips and in his eyes, “I do.”

_ I love you. _

“But,” he continued, “that, like everything else, only comes after you learn how to love other people in general. I learned first with my kids, and then again when I met everybody else. I was a shitty husband at the time, but now…” 

He never broke eye contact with John while speaking. Although he’d prepared for it, the sensation is intense, and John feared looking away.

“I’m at a place where I know love, and I’d be willing to try again.”

_ I love you, so much. _

The sound of engines revving in the distance caught both of their attention and they turned to look out over the horizon where a cloud of dust was being kicked up by a number of cars. The break in conversation wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, and they both stand together and Merle explained which cart to look out for once they got closer. This was the last lap, and a familiar vehicle was up front.

Hurley and Sloane noticed the two men waving as they pass, and they offered them a salute with matching grins. It only lasted a second, but it was what they came here for, and the girls were happier than he’d ever seen them.

Merle was laughing when they sat back down. “They’ve got it in the bag.” The finish line was a ways away from where they sat, but there were a good few seconds before the next car behind Hurley and Sloane’s passed by. Their lead was indisputable, and the two of them relaxed again, exchanging a smile.

“You didn’t let me finish, Merle.”

The dwarf’s grin widened impishly and he crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? Please, go on.”

_ I love you. _

“Thank you.”

They weren’t the words Merle was expecting to hear, and he watched as his brows shot up in surprise. The smile on his face fell for a moment and returned with a bark of laughter. “Yeah?”

“I mean it,” John scoffed, nudging the other in the side with his elbow. “If not for you and everybody else, I would have stayed the same for the rest of my life, probably. I’ve had more fun these past six months than the last thirty years of my life together.”

If Merle’s smile could brighten any more, he might rival out the sun. Instead of saying anything else, Merle simply nodded and focused ahead on the race in front of them as more vehicles zoomed past, kicking up clouds of debris. 

John barely heard him speak over the loud roaring of engines and squealing tires. “Thank  _ you _ , John.”

_ God, I really do love you. How could you look so far into me, see everything I have, and decide to stay? How are you so kind, so gentle, and so open and bright? _

_ So, so, very much. _

When the time came, they stood to leave without saying goodbye to Hurley and Sloane, given the two were too busy making out over their first place trophy. Neither of them minded, though, as it gave them more time to talk about anything in particular on the walk back home. If John zoned out enough, it felt like any other walk home from the monthly parties they held, albeit his home was now a hospital.

Merle prattled on about some jackass who’d come in and got flowers for his girlfriend only for his wife to come pick them up. He told the story crudely and with wide hand gestures, and John laughed at the appropriate times and intersected with his own questions and commentary when allowed. It was an actual conversation; a real, normal talk between two people who had become very close.

John cherished every second of it, and he didn’t allow himself to stop listening for a second.

_ This is precious,  _ he told himself and stared down at the dwarf telling his stories with a mischievous grin. This was what it was like to be in love, what he’d never had for fifty years.

It wasn’t earth-shattering. It wasn’t like the movies at all, where he could see them sweeping each other up in the rain and kissing for hours while declaring a passionate, burning love for each other.

It was simple and sweet, the lingering feeling of always wanting to be with someone and know everything about them. John never wanted to stop being on the receiving end of his smiles, and he wanted Merle to learn about him too.

He wanted love.

“I’ll come by and visit sometime, room 314, alright?” Merle said as they approached the hospital entrance.

“Don’t push all of your work on the others to come see me, now; I’ll be out soon.”

Merle chuckled, patting John firmly on his lower back. They stood at the doors, just waiting to part. “I had a lot of fun today, John--it’ll be great to have you back.”

John nodded in agreement. “Thank you for today, Merle, I really... needed this. I’ll tell you as soon as I’m out.”

They parted at the entrance, and John gave one last wave to Merle as he disappeared behind the double doors.

He turned on heel and headed up to the elevator, ringing it down.

It had been a nice day; one of the best he’d ever had, in all honesty. John knew it would be good to spend time with Merle for the first time in weeks, maybe months, but he’d had no idea just how fun it would be. Even now he was still buzzing with excitement, heart afloat, as he stepped off the elevator.

John counted the rooms passing in his head as he continued down the hall.

An young man with cancer in 308. A little girl with a chronic heart issue in 310. A teenager with hanahaki in 312. The supply closet at 314.

He turned down the hall and headed for a set of stairs, walking the rest of the way up to the fourth floor where his room was occupied by a nurse.

“Oh, you finally returned,” she said upon John’s entrance, smiling somberly. “I went ahead and made your bed as comfortable for the next part as possible, Mr. John. There’s a bin on the other side of the bed waiting.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Noelle.” As she left, John unbuttoned the top couple pieces of his shirt and climbed into bed in resignation.

John was impressed with himself.

He really had planned the day perfectly, down to the very last minute. He checked his watch to find he was just in time and grabbed the waste bin, setting it on the mattress beside him.

The clock struck twelve.

Immediately, Cinderella hunched over the can and proceeded to expel his entire day’s worth of food, along with an entire bouquet of flowers.

It was a tricky little spell, and one that was highly discouraged among many circles of hanahaki victims. It had the benefits of allowing the user to go about their day without worrying about coughing up petals, but only because they were transferred to their stomach instead. Once the magic keeping them down was used up, there was nothing holding it back.

John fell back on his bed with a pathetic groan, using the napkins helpfully provided by the nurse to wipe his mouth. His throat didn’t hurt like it would after a coughing fit, but his body was weak, fatigued, and his stomach felt like it was tearing him apart. There was a decent chance some of the flowers had been poisonous, and left in his stomach for so many hours, started being digested. It was one of the main reasons it was so highly frowned upon, because if one wasn’t positive what flowers were going to come up, they were at risk of poisoning themselves right then and there.

He warily looked down into the bin, grimacing at the massacre in the bottom of the trash can as he inspected the flowers, and he squinted at one in particular.

Lily of the valley.

Both ironic, and poisonous.

So much for using that spell again.

A knock on the door brought John out of his thoughts, and he turned to see his doctor entering the room with a sympathetic expression. She’d been the first to discourage the spell, but of course he didn’t listen. “How are you feeling?” she asked, as if the answer wasn’t laid out clearly before her. “Did you enjoy your day out?”

“...yes. It was lovely.”

She smiled and nodded, sitting in a chair by his bed with her clipboard pulled out to write. “They're poisonous flowers, aren't they?”

“Yes. They are.”

“I’m afraid to say you don’t have a lot of time remaining then, John.”

It was information he knew. His body told him before anyone else, and in the back of his mind, the fact his days were numbered was ever-present. His body was weaker. His fits were stronger. And he was losing both hope and the will to fight.

As his doctor continued speaking, John ran over the events of the day in his head.

Merle picking him up from the hospital, so happy to see him.

Merle laying out the picnic blanket and acting so proud of himself.

Merle’s eyes, softening as the conversation changed topic.

All of their words, every smile exchanged, each laugh between them, how John felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks now that they were finally together again.

God help him, he was in love.

“John.”

He felt the hand of his doctor on his arm, but didn’t look away from his lap.

“You have to make a decision.”


	12. Month 7 - Disquiet

**Merle [1:30PM] “hey John you gave me the wrong room number, where’re you at?? I got some sweet extras from taako”**

**Merle [1:40PM] “jooooooooohn hurry up this sauce gettin cold n old much like yourself”**

**Merle [1:41PM] “no offense. Wink.”**

**Merle [1:46PM] “Why’s the nurse saying you aren’t taking visitors? Don’t make me zone of truth this place.”**

**Merle [1:57PM] “John, I know you aren’t like this. Something happened, didn’t it? Sorry for bothering you if you’re not feeling well, just text me and tell me what’s up when you can.”**

 

**Merle [12:35PM] “you alive?”**

**Merle [4:47PM] “John, I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Please don’t do this to me again.”**

  
  
  


**Merle [7:22PM] “I KNOW you aren’t like this. Something must have happened. Feel better.”**

  
  
  
  


**Merle [12:30PM] “It’s been a week John. What’s going on? Are you alright?”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Merle [11:56PM] “I miss you. I don’t know if I’d rather you be ignoring me and safe, or just not feeling well.”**

**Merle [12:01AM] “that sounded bad. I really hope you’re alright, but please don’t close me out again, John.”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

**Merle [7:32PM] “Shit.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bout it
> 
> leave comments or talk to me on tumblr lol im more excited than you could ever know abt this fic


	13. Month 8 - Grand Opening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i remember wanting to wait a week between each update and now i cant wait that long  
> one because im excited and two because i want to finish this before im absolutely SWAMPED by school

“Merle,” Sloane said, peeking her head into the back room with one hand holding back the curtains, “do you have an arrangement for a Miss Ren back there?”

He looked up from the notebook he’d been checking and set the pen in his hand down. “Everything that’s for today should’ve already been set in the case up front--is it not there?”

“No, I don’t think the order got filed properly--I have a copy here, though.”

“Hand it over, I’ll fix one up real fast.”

While Sloane returned to the front to fix up an apology to the customer, Merle followed after her to pick out the flowers necessary from the bins in the main room and began composing a piece. A simple ‘congratulations on your retirement’ arrangement; Merle was familiar with them.

He brought the armful of flowers back to begin work.

John didn’t return to Bougainvillea.

After a week had passed, and then two, then an entire month, it was as if he’d simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

The hospital was not allowed to disclose information to those unrelated to him, try as Merle might to convince the nurses they were either estranged cousins or married. He pestered them for a week endlessly along with Sloane and Julia, both unaware of the man’s whereabouts and both immensely worried in their own ways.

But once that first week passed, the hospital released the only information Merle was allowed to have.

“He is no longer a patient with us.”

It conveyed nothing and everything.

Merle did the next best thing and visited John’s home, ringing the doorbell to no avail. He tried multiple times over the course of a few days, and each instance, nothing ever changed. No movement in the windows, no cars out the garage, and when he got desperate enough to look, his entire mailbox was stuffed full.

It was as if John had never lived in that house at all, or if he had, it was abandoned now.

The hospital gave no information. Merle had no emergency contacts at work for him. The only friends of John he knew were his own as well. His house was empty and unmoving, stuck in time.

John had simply disappeared.

Merle could only devote so much of his time and patience to searching for him.

After a month, he gave up, and continued focusing on the store.

Sloane returned to her full time position now that the race was over and won, just as Julia began taking time off for more doctor’s appointments. Barry helped fill in the rest of the time with Killian, and sometimes even Carey.

Life continued as normal.

Like the last seven months had never happened. 

People came through the doors every day to order and pick up flowers, and Merle continued arranging them. At night he went out to dinner with friends then watched TV at home with a beer. Every now and then he’d go and see his kids. At the barbecue that month, nobody said anything about the missing person, and the night was lively all the same.

Bougainvillea continued to flourish and bloom, thought it remained the same. The paper filing system once developed became null and void in favor of shoving everything into one drawer as they would months prior. Floors became dirty. Flower arrangements were slightly duller, not that a customer would typically notice, and if any of his coworkers did, they didn’t say anything.

Life wasn’t horrible; Merle still had and loved his friends. But a spark was missing, and it couldn’t be so easily replaced or forgotten.

**Taako [1:51PM]** “You’re all coming tonight, right? Holy shit its packed as fuuuuuk my dude.”   
**Magnus [1:53PM]** “Me and Julia will be there at 7!”   
**Julia [1:53PM]** “Me and Magnus will be there at 7!”   
**Julia [1:54PM]** “oh goddammit”   
**Magnus [1:54PM]** “ <3”   
**Taako [1:55PM]** “yeah real cute barf. Merle whats happening my man”   
**Merle [2:00PM] “I’ll be there, don’t worry kiddo”** **  
** **Taako [2:01PM]** “1) cool 2) never call me that again”

Despite mild controversy, Taako was still quite renowned in his field, so it was only natural that his restaurant would be busy for its grand opening. Merle could see the inside of the place as he approached, packed with dozens if not a hundred guests dressed in formal attire. Even though he’d pulled out a suit for this occasion, he felt entirely out of place, given he hadn’t worn it in years--maybe decades.

For tonight, Angus and Kravitz would be helping run the place, and the two smiled brightly as they ushered guests in and brought them to their reserved seats. Angus lit up when he noticed Merle and rushed up to greet him. “Good evening, sir, welcome to Del Taako! Dad was worried you might not show up, tonight!”

Although it took every ounce of strength in his body, Merle mustered a smile and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Nah, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You know where I’m hanging out?”

“Right this way, sir! Dad made sure you and everyone else are together!”

The place really picked itself up. Merle had been here since they bought the building, and the work Taako and Kravitz had done to the place was remarkable. The walls were a comfortable win red, the floors boarded with dark wood, and all the tables and chairs were rolled out from storage and put in their places. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling over the larger tables, and thought he didn’t plan on going into the kitchen tonight, he knew that everything was state of the art.

Everything was surprisingly both very Taako and not. The decor was elegant and chic, not classical but modern, and Merle was simply waiting for some odd detail to prove this was actually Taako’s place. Kravitz had probably acted as his impulse control to keep him from painting random fluorescent colors across the walls.

Merle felt proud of his friend; he’d really done it, after everything it took to get here.

Taako’s story was an inspiring one, and while they never brought it up anymore, it was still an important part of all of their histories.

“Merle!” He looked up at the sound of Hurley’s voice, scanning the room to look for his friends.

He found them easily enough, a large table occupied by a bunch of odd creatures who didn’t fit together.

But something else caught his eye.

Their table was near the center of the room along with other large parties. Surrounding them were a number of smaller four-person sets, with even smaller two-seaters around them. Each table was full to the brim with however many people it could hold, and each guest was too busy laughing merrily and chatting to notice a single open seat.

One man sat by himself at a table for two, drinking a glass of wine by himself.

He was the only one without a companion.

The tux he wore suited him, and it wasn’t only because Merle has seen him wear it so often before. Even just sitting and drinking alone, he exuded an air of calm elegance that couldn’t be faked. His back was straight and poised without being forced, his fingers delicate at the base of his glass, and his face relaxed and even.

He was not the type of person Merle would normally ever consider speaking to, much less even acknowledge.

But because he knew just what the man was, who he truly was, Merle had no issue with leaving Angus and walking right up to his table.

It took until Merle was standing in front of him for the man to lift his eyes and meet his. Merle felt his lungs constrict.

Everything was wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” Merle asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

John didn’t even blink. “I wanted to try one of those tarts again.”

He searched for him for nearly a month, and before that spent even longer trying to regain his trust and friendship. Just when Merle thought he’d gotten it, John was gone again.

Merle lost sleep worrying.

He messed up at work.

He snapped at his friends.

And here John was, sitting at a restaurant by himself, drinking wine, and staring at him coolly. One of John’s hands lifted and gestured to the chair across from him. “Take a seat, Merle.”

He did that. John took it upon himself to reach out for the bottle of wine and pour it into the empty glass in front of Merle, which the dwarf took gratefully and nearly chugged at once.

“John,” he started, “it’s great to see you’re--you’re  _ alive _ , but--” Merle tried to fake a smile, but it wouldn’t come.

John’s eye on him was exactly like that first day, picking him apart with every blink, cold and calculating.

Merle never felt so uncomfortable--and this was  _ John _ ! His buddy, his friend, his pal! He voiced his thoughts openly. “What happened?”

“I was transferred to another clinic for different treatment,” John answered simply, as if it were obvious. “I was only released last week, and I’ve been recovering at home. I apologize for not having the chance to inform you, but circumstances arose.”

His head threatened on spinning. It… did make sense, in a way. He could believe John was transferred, okay, sure, and if he had some special treatment, of course he would remain at home. But being unable to contact him or anyone else at all? What  _ circumstances _ required him to reject all of his friends for an entire month without notice?

Merle didn’t bother pressing it. There would be time, and the last time he tried to get John to talk, the man had panicked and bolted from the store. “Alright,” he conceded, and poured himself another glass of wine. He would need it. “So, when do you think you’ll be able to come back to the store? We could use that extra hand--”

“About that.”

There was a casual, offhand tone to his voice that made the words all the more cruel. When Merle lifted his eyes to meet John’s, they hadn’t changed at all. He regarded Merle with a simple smile that reflected no happiness as much as it was polite and foreign--like he was talking to a  _ stranger _ . And he did so without any preamble, warning, or explanation for Merle to accept.

“What--so you’re going back to your previous lifestyle, then? All alone and retired and with nothing to do?”

“That’s the plan.”

The first course of the meal came out then, predetermined for the opening night, and interrupted the conversation briefly. John didn’t appear to mind at all as his attention was immediately diverted to the amuse bouche. Merle wanted to yell at him for getting distracted and simply ate the tiny barely-appetizer in one bite.

He had to chew threw an entire mouthful before he could speak, and watched as John took his time enjoying the small course as one was technically supposed to. His laidback attitude was absolutely infuriating.

While John pushed the empty plate back out in front of him, Merle leaned forward, whispering as to not cause a scene. “Then what was the point of everything we talked about at the race, then? About having friends, about--about learning how to find happiness and how to  _ love-- _ ”

“I found it, Merle.” John’s voice was sterner now, and the fact he cut him off was the first sign of any emotion he’d had all evening. He stopped for a second, looked around, and mimicked Merle by hunching himself over the table as well, as if to share a secret. “I saw it all--I found friendship, happiness, and love, and you know what I discovered?”

Merle didn’t give him any incentive to continue.

He didn’t want to know.

John’s smile returned, wider now than before. 

“I didn’t much care for any of it.”

“You’re lying,” Merle bit back immediately.

“I am  _ not _ .” He kept himself from raising his voice as a waiter passed, picking up their plates and setting other ones down. Both of them chose to ignore the food placed before them. “I gave this life everyone speaks so highly of a try, and it was maddening. For happiness and trust to be so fleeting, so unsure and wavering between each passing day? It’s torture. And love?” He scoffed. “Friendship? They are simply states of relationships that have no consequence of living without and provide no other additive to life besides stress and complication.”

“I know you, John.”

“You think you do because it provides you with a sense of satisfaction you use to cover up the disgusting parts of your personality and the things you’ve done, Merle.”

John leaned back in his seat, finally taking a moment to calm himself down.

Merle did nothing, watching as John picked up his glass and took another drink. If he could, he would down the entire bottle now. Or throw it across the table.

The rest of the world carried on around them, unaware of the conversation occurring. It hardly mattered, as in the moment, they were in their own world--an isolated room, and the small table between them was longer than it appeared as they sat in opposite chairs. It felt as if they were in the top floor of a skyscraper, overlooking the rest of the world below. They were farther apart than before, and the distance only grew with every passing word from John’s lips.

The human sneered. “Friendship, Merle, love, Merle? Is  _ horrible _ . To befriend, to love, is  _ horrible _ .”

“What happened to you, John?” Merle finally asked, voice both quiet and hurt.

John simply tipped his glass in his hand and watched as the wine threatened to pour out and over the rim. He didn’t bother returning the dwarf’s stare. “I had questions, and the answers others provided me were not relative to my own experience. Upon my own experimentation, I became discontent--and made myself more efficient for it.”

It felt like the small amuse bouche he’d consumed would crawl right back up and out of his stomach.

Merle stood from the table, and John did not appear surprised by his decision. In fact, his face may have even brightened; Merle didn’t stay long enough to find out.

Without bothering to look back, he left the restaurant, not paying any farewell to either John or the friends gathered in the dining room.

* * *

Although hospitals could advertise it, most medical professionals were not authorized to administer powerful spells.

Specialized clinics were set up by professional sorcerers who were certified in such things, like any doctor would be, but typically required reference from both a non-magical medical professional and one who was well-versed in the topic.

It took a week for John to receive clearance.

The spell took a few hours to perform, including preparation and the wind-down period where he was kept in isolation in a barrier-encased chamber away from other patients. He was kept in the clinic for another week to ensure his stability. His time consisted of being picked on with smaller spells to diagnose him and attending therapy.

Rehabilitation was done mostly in groups with other patients who typically came from other cities entirely (given hanahaki treatment was not so common elsewhere). Remarkably, group therapy with people who just experienced an emotion factory-reset was not too invigorating. John himself was not one to say anything, though; he remained just as quiet, every individual person too busy figuring out their new minds alone.

It was not a grand revelation to discover he was incapable of love.

The sensation, or lack thereof, was familiar, like stepping into an old pair of shoes after walking on jagged rocks for hours--or seven months, really.

As he returned home for the first time, he subconsciously lifted his arm to set his work briefcase on the table in the foyer, only to find his hand was empty.

The flowers were the first thing to go.

He moved with an efficiency that was neither rushed nor patient, simply going through the movements while pondering what he might have for dinner the next day or if he still had his old calendar to record upcoming appointments. Each flower, now all long since rotted, was dropped into a trash bag and set out on the curb to be taken away the next morning. The vases were washed and tucked below the sink, out of sight.

John was capable of remembering the fact he had emotions similar to love at one time. He remembered his thoughts about it, what he once deduced from his actions, but could not conceive what those feelings had been or why he acted in the manner he did.

His last seven months, once bright and rose colored, became monochrome and blurred into the rest of his dull life--as it should be.

Things were simpler like this.

He no longer hurt. He had no risk of imminent death. There was no betrayal.

For the first time in so long, John climbed into bed that night with a book in his hand, one he hadn’t read in months, but many times before that. As he opened the first page, he allowed himself to smile--he still knew the first few lines by heart.

Life continued as normal.

Like the last seven months had never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY BOUT IT
> 
> next chap will be up sometime, hang out with me on my tumblr and talk about johnmerle in the meantime


	14. Month 8 - What If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much to everyone who's been leaving me comments and messages on tumblr! I don't have the time or words to respond to every single one, but I read them all and just the smallest ones make my day. this fic has become so important to me bc of everyone reading and responding to it!
> 
> i should've mentioned this earlier, but some really cool people have also drawn fanart of this fic, [i’m keeping it all over here](http://ludella.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart). if you draw anything, tell me in the comments or mention me on tumblr, i’d love to see! and also would die for you
> 
> thank you guys so much and fuck i promise it gets better okay. JUST HANG IN THERE WITH ME!!  
> 

It really wasn’t that bad.

John continued to read criticisms of the counterspell along with other people’s experiences, curiosity getting the better of him. People tended to have misconstrued views of what really happened.

He was not an emotionless machine that operated on command and logistics alone, now; John felt happiness, sadness, and frustration like any other regular person. When he read a good book, he enjoyed it, and was aware he enjoyed it. He could still ‘love’ things. He loved Taako’s food, and he visited the restaurant when he wanted. He loved good weather, too.

Oddly enough, the more he delved into it, the more he found he loved reading analyses on human emotions and their psyche. It had always been a lesser interest of his, experimented with in university before he shipped himself off to work. Now that he had time, he allowed himself to buy more books about philosophy in general, to learn about feelings, to learn about people’s place in the world.

Emotions were a truly fickle thing.

Thankfully, he was in a position where he had experienced enough of ‘love’ to speak about it, but was no longer biased as a result of having it. He could view his own emotions and actions based off of them from a completely objective standpoint. If he were to read somebody’s account of their experience with hanahaki, he could understand--and honestly, the ‘happy’ endings people had weren’t too enticing to make him regret his decision.

John always loved to learn. He studied flowers and arrangements when he worked at the store, he studied Merle, and now that both of those were finished, he studied himself.

For the first time in months, he was able to think about that dwarf, really  _ think _ about him without risking a fit of coughing and petals that would knock him out. Perhaps it would have helped if he could think about Merle without that threat of injury--he may have realized there was no reason for him to feel the way he did.

Because when things came down to it, Merle was just another man.

There was nothing spectacular about it. He was a kind old man who treated his friends well and took his work very seriously. He was an emotional man who didn’t bother dealing with numbers or probability or any of these other factors and safety nets John had relied on for fifty years. He worked based off of what he felt, and look where that got him.

John was more at peace now than he’d ever been in his life. Sure, he was retired and without a job once again, but now he had a hobby. He had interests again, and he didn’t have to worry about dying based on some teen’s romantic novel.

He’d never been so grateful to not feel love.

John picked up his phone the second it buzzed once, minimizing the sound of it vibrating on the table, and unlocked it without looking up from his book. He only gave it a quick glance to see if it was worth responding to.

**Taako [4:13PM] “come to the restaurant after we close tonight. Something happened.”**

He had no reason not to go.

The restaurant was still busy when he arrived, as he got there early enough to get dinner as well. He hadn’t really spoken with Taako privately since he was in the hospital, and John was fine with leaving it like that. In reality, they never  _ were _ friends; Taako had simply projected what remained of his issues onto John and tried to help him with it. However, John had to thank him; it was his advice that ultimately led to him getting the counterspell done.

Even once the grand opening passed, the place remained bustling and busy. Whoever had come that first night evidently enjoyed it immensely, as positive reviews continued to roll in about the food, service, and environment. 

Due to the time of night it was beginning to die down a little bit, and John simply paid his bill and waited for Taako to come out from the kitchen to fetch him. John watched every guest stand from their table and leave one by one, all smiling faces and holding hands. One couple stood and were immediately locked at the arm once they were beside each other, even sharing a kiss right there. Nothing too heated for public, of course, but still a kiss, just after dinner? John got a glimpse of one of their faces when they turned to leave, and for a split second, he heard the haunting sound of a violin being played from memory--

“John.”

Taako’s voice stopped his thoughts before he could place where the man was from, and he stood immediately. The elf was leaning against the wall separating the kitchen from the dining room, and instead of ushering the man into the back like usual, he marched across the room and sat right across from his chair. He gestured to the seat John just vacated, and the latter sat back down.

“Your restaurant appears to be doing marvelously,” John smiled across the table, but Taako’s face didn’t move.

His mouth was a taut, unimpressed line, and his eyes were trained solely on John as he spoke. “Yeah, natch. And you seem to not be six feet under and sprouting new flowers from your corpse.”

“I took your advice--I’m doing much better.”

Taako’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a second before he looked away, lip worrying between his teeth with a whispered “shit.” He should’ve known by now, John wanted to say; he had been at the grand opening, and the fact he was alive should’ve given it all away. “You actually went through with the spell… fuck.”

Fuck?

John squinted his eyes in confusion. Taako was the very first person to suggest he consider the counterspell and save himself. They’d talked at length about the futility of trying to confess or wait it out--Taako had  _ convinced _ him. “Was I supposed to lay back and die?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Even if Taako hadn’t helped him, chances were John likely would’ve ended up in the same place. Still, it wasn’t comforting to hear the person who  _ did _ help him was now visibly upset over the very decision that saved his life.

“Is this about Lup and Barry?”

“What?” By the confused tone in his voice, John supposed that wasn’t the news he had to tell him.

“I heard about their award,” he explained. “Their research took off and they’re at a banquet tonight to be rewarded for their work in isolating the original components that may have served as an… origin...”

Taako was staring at him blankly. He had  _ no  _ idea what he was talking about at all, brow quirked high on his head in confusion.

The unexpected topic seemed enough to momentarily disspell Taako’s previous nerves, and he nodded after a moment. “Oh, right… how did you know about that? Lup hasn’t talked to you, has she?”

John shook his head. “No, I’ve been reading up on the curse ever since; it’s more interesting now that I’m not ailed by it. The work she and Barry have done is spectacular, really.”

“Yeah, I, uh, never wanted to hear another word about that shit when I was cured.”

Funny, how they had once been entirely the same when it came to their feelings on the curse, to now be so different. Taako didn’t even want to hear about his own sister’s work because it was the subject. If John were to think about it and try sympathizing, he supposed it made sense, given Taako had likely been traumatized by the experience. He couldn’t understand it, per se, but he could comprehend it.

It just went to show that mortals really were unable to truly comprehend each other, no matter how similar they may have been at one time. Another interesting point he would have to look at when he returned home.

“So,” John began again, and Taako’s face closed right back off. “What is this about, then?”

If only it were something as simple as catching up or talking about his sister’s achievements.

The elf sighed and took a moment to think before he spoke. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and tried again. 

“Have you ever had a bug in a report or program at work, or a filing error?” Taako asked, running a hand slowly down his face. “And you finally fix it, and by the time you do, you realize there was another fuck up running tandem to it? And that like, you fucked a bunch of shit up to solve one, but could’ve solved  _ both _ at once and didn’t? And now one’s  _ super  _ fucked up?”

“This is getting specific for talk about filing,” John muttered, and Taako shook his head while standing back up. The human remained in his seat while the other left the room momentarily, returning a few quiet moments later with a bottle of bourbon already opened and in his hand. He took a swig of it straight from the bottle before pouring it into two glasses on the table.

After downing his entire drink in one disgusting go, he slammed another gulp from the bottle directly and put it back on the table. He didn’t make eye contact with John, and the latter was content to sit in silence and sip his own drink. He had no reason to get drunk, or desire to, right now.

Taako finally spoke up, forehead held up in the palm of his hand.

“Merle collapsed at work.”

John nodded.

“He was working on wrapping a bouquet of roses, but when Julia found him, he was surrounded by asphodel petals.”

Ah.

So that was it.

When John had all sense of love removed from his heart, he maintained everything else; including all his problem solving skills and common sense.

It didn’t take but a moment after the words left Taako’s mouth for John to realize what he was implying, along with the words spoken seconds later.

Taako lifted his head enough to stare John down, expression unreadable. “Merle is three months in.”

Three months.

That was four months into John working at Bougainvillea. At that time, they were well on their way to being good friends. They  _ were _ friends at that point--it was when John began opening up, when he started acknowledging the idea of the shop and its patrons becoming permanent parts of his life.

Among all the lessons, the days working together, the parties; among everything that had convinced John’s heart into something it wasn’t capable of, Merle had grown… feelings. Unrequited feelings that John once experienced just the same.

And somewhere recently, it had been enough to affect him physically.

“But Merle was married,” John said quietly, more a question than an observation.  _ This can’t be the first time he’s been in love. It’s Merle, who wears his heart on his sleeve, who loves everyone. There’s no way he’s just now learning about romantic love, after all this time? _

Taako snorted. “You know he and that chick never liked each other.”

He did know. Merle didn’t even wear his wedding band anymore, said he kept it on a chain around his neck sometimes to remind him of his children more than anything. John knew all about his previous marriage--they talked about it, just like they used to talk about everything.

“How did he hide it?” he asked, and tried not to notice how Taako’s ears lowered back against his head. Not the right question, evidently.

“He’s a cleric with plant magic, he’s basically designed to be a hanahaki ass-kicking machine. Merle eats fucking cacti needles for breakfast.”

He could’ve been manipulating the flowers in his lungs, covering his cough with something else, hiding himself with magic, a number of methods to keep anyone from finding out. The curse really was much easier to deal with if one could use magic themselves--and naturally, as a non-magical human, John had never been able to detect any of it.

It sounded like nobody else at the shop knew either. Merle Highchurch, the most open and friendly man in the world, had been keeping such a deadly secret from everyone for so long.

Taako leveled him with a glare. He looked absolutely miserable.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No,” John shook his head, “I already know.”

_ Three months ago, John was throwing petals into the trashcans at work and pretending he had a cough. Merle offered to heal him or talk whenever he needed, and he turned him down every single time.  _

_ A month later, he received a bouquet from Merle, filled with all the flowers that’d taken root in his lungs. It had been an arrangement based off of him, or at least, as they discussed, Merle’s  _ feelings _ for him. He didn’t think anything of it at the time besides the fear he had been discovered. He never thought about what the action, what that gift in and of itself might have meant. _

_ He ran away, afraid of possibilities, and was admitted into a hospital. _

_ Merle texted and called him nonstop. _

_ He sent flowers. _

_ He asked to visit him, worried about him, and didn’t ever give up. _

_ When John finally returned, Merle never yelled or scolded or reprimanded him. They made plans to go out. They had a picnic and watched a race. Merle prepared all of it for them, and walked John all the way back to the hospital with promises to visit again. _

_ John didn’t let him. _

_ He had grabbed the man’s heart between his hands and snapped it over his knee. _

_ Unknowingly, this entire time, John had been playing the “villain.” _

_ His feelings for Merle had been unrequited on his own volition, and he never tried to act upon them once. Where John hid and ran away to hide his symptoms, closing everybody out, Merle never changed. He remained the same. He continued interacting with their friends, and kept interacting with John. _

_ Merle never stopped reaching out to him--and John slapped his hand away every time, nipping each potential flower in the bud. _

_ The entire time, he had been trying to save himself, to act upon his own feelings so they might not be unrequited. It was John who damned him. _

“For god’s sake, John,” Taako leaned over the table. His hands were clenched into fists--he was desperate. “I don’t know zone of truth--what are you thinking? This is Merle, this changes everything that--”

“No; it really doesn’t.”

The elf watched in something akin to shocked horror as John picked his glass back up and calmly sipped his drink.

Three months long.

John could remember it all, and from this perspective could analyze and reference the points where it may have been obvious something like Merle being cursed was obvious. But that time was cast in grey confusion in his mind, like watching a movie instead of going through his own thoughts.

What happened three months ago was of little consequence now. He couldn’t understand Taako’s sentiments for the life of him.

He set the glass back down.

“I’m not thinking anything at all, Taako. I’m not  _ capable _ .” The chef slowly lowered his head, and John turned his chin to the side questioningly. “What exactly did you hope for when telling me this?”

“A miracle,” he grumbled with his face back in his hands. “Some kind of… magic phenomenon where you are suddenly back to normal and can confess to the old man so he doesn’t croak? God dammit, John, you were in love with this guy for months, and this is  _ all  _ you have to say?!”

As Taako’s voice raised, John kept his tone steady and his expression even. Not only was this the wrong time for high emotions, but he wasn’t the best with expressing them if he even had any. “ _ Was _ in love. My physical ability to experience such things has been taken away; there’s nothing I can do. Even as I sit here and listen to you say this, I feel nothing--pity, perhaps, but nothing more.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, and for a moment, Taako looked as if he might fire a round of spells right there if he’d had his wand. Perhaps he would’ve. If John learned anything this night, it was the fact that dreaming of ‘what if’s were pointless.

Taako slumped back down in his seat, resigned. “Fuck,” he whispered.

It was likely he was blaming the entire thing on himself for giving John advice. He was right to, John thought; Taako had definitely been living out his remaining flaws and insecurities vicariously through John, and here he  _ had  _ fucked up. 

Albeit, John was relatively fine with the situation for himself, but he knew Merle was in danger. It was not as if now, without love for him, John suddenly hated the man. He tried again. “Could you not simply tell Merle what happened? If you explained that I once was in… love with him as well,” a strange concept, “perhaps it might be enough.”

“What, walk in with a ‘hey Merle, sorry the guy you love ditched you last month and has been avoiding you, nevermind the fact he’s incapable of feeling love now, he liked you at  _ some _ point.’”

“It sounds worse when you say it like that.”

“It’s an outright rejection, John. It’s the same as putting a bullet in his head, but slowly, with your fucking  _ fingers _ .”

He’d read secondhand accounts of rejection from victims before their deaths. Many were artists who expressed themselves in poetry, and he read them all exactly two times; once when he could understand their words, and again now with an objective eye. John could remember sympathizing with them that first time, and acknowledged the fact he was simply incapable of doing so now.

In the back of his mind, he recalled hearing a somber melody being played on violin, but couldn’t remember how the tune went.

“I’m sorry, Taako,” John said as he stood from the table. Taako didn’t lift his head. “But there’s nothing I can do; give Merle my condolences--or don’t.”

Merle and John had always been fundamentally different.

They always would be.

Merle was accustomed to making friends, loving his children, loving his work, and living life out with all of his heart. Romance was not a stretch for him; loving another person was only a matter of time.

John was not physically capable of doing so, never had been. In some distant, deep part of him, John was wired differently from Merle since the very beginning. There was no point in ‘what if’s for a scenario that would have never occurred in the first place.

Perhaps, at another time, he would feel some regret or hidden feelings nagging at his mind when he left. As he walked back, he would wish he said or did something else. Some persistent feeling that something was wrong, that he could’ve done better for himself.

But John’s walk home was entirely calm.

The night breeze was cool against his skin. Tomorrow he might go to the library, return the books he’d taken out, and check on some different ones. A new park was opening on the outskirts of town he considered looking into as well; there were some beautiful gardens being planted there.

He passed Bougainvillea on the way back, and lingered only long enough to peer inside. It was long since closed tonight, but he wondered if it would be open tomorrow, given Merle’s condition. 

Taako wished for a miracle, some divine god to reweave fate and fix everything for them.

But this was reality, and ‘fate’ only had a soft spot for the young and beautiful.

Their time for such things had long since passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i PROMISE it's going to get better, this was the big axe i've been waiting forever to drop.
> 
> the next update will probably be a few days after the finale! after that i can't say how frequent they'll be, since i'll be back in college :( but until then, leave comments and talk with me on tumblr!!


	15. Month 9 - Lab Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, i know the last few have been a bit of a roller coaster, so let's take a deep breath. this one is much calmer, promise.
> 
> also HOW ABOUT THAT TAZ FINALE HUH

John had realized he had feelings only because his body told him he did.

Before that moment, he didn’t have a romantic thought in his head. He considered the two of them as being friends and nothing more, nothing less. For so long he waited for his body to change its mind and realize it made a mistake, this was simply because he’d never made friends before, but it never did. The curse took his world by storm, and he spent every day after adjusting to it.

He never considered what it might mean to actually be in love until the day of the race.

John once told Taako he never wanted any of this, and he’d never wanted to be in love. It was one of the only sentiments he could still understand to this day from those past seven months; he never wanted to experience love, not once. It was unfamiliar, dangerous, and trite. It wasn’t John.

So preoccupied with his physical status and keeping his secret, John never once considered the emotional aspect of the curse. If he ever had, his body rejected it with a number of petals, blocking his thoughts for him--he could never think about Merle or even try to pick out what it was that he evidently harbored affection for.

Now, without the road-block of emotional bias in his way, John could really sit and mull over it.

He wished he had suffered one extra coughing fit for the sake of figuring out what he apparently ‘loved’ in Merle, as now, he couldn’t determine it for the life of him.

John shrugged his jacket tighter over himself, buttoning it up higher as he stepped outside. Although not quite winter, it was getting colder out recently, and he would soon have to break out his scarves and thicker outerwear. He even kept his gloves in his pockets, just in case the chill from the wind bit into his hands.

There was a long walk ahead of him, and he pulled out the printed map in his pocket out to check his directions once more.

Back when it had been relevant, any discussion or actions taken were done through Taako himself. It was more convenient for every party involved than having one of them go out of their way, both busy groups that couldn’t be helped. He hadn’t really appreciated it at the time, but now that he didn’t want to bother Taako anymore, John started recognizing how much the elf had been doing for him.

Taako could blame himself all he wanted for Merle’s downfall or whatever it was, but John was grateful.

The laboratory was new, as the pair had just relocated after being granted an award by the university they were working with. No longer in the basement below college auditoriums, they were provided their own private space at the cost of affiliating with some private corporation conducting their own research instead. John had read through the specifics, interested in them as well, given his previous occupation. But nothing could compare to being there in person.

It would be the first time he had spoken with Lup and Barry since he was hospitalized.

Barry was waiting for him inside, sitting on a bench near the entrance and standing when John approached. When he opened the door and allowed John inside, Barry forced a smile. “It’s good to see you again, John.”

“You, too, Barry.”

John had texted him the evening prior to arrange their meeting today, knowing Lup would be more difficult to deal with. He would have to confront her today, surely, but he was minimizing his interactions with the woman. She was close to Merle, just as Taako was.

The walk down the hall was not so awkward, filled with talk about the ceremony they attended and just what work they’d been awarded for. John had done his research prior to coming and was more than happy to listen, just as Barry was more than happy to tell. He got the feeling the younger human didn’t get the opportunity to talk to much anyone else besides Lup about what they were doing, and she was his partner, anyways.

“It’s… a step in the right direction, we think,” Barry said, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his lab coat. “Lup didn’t think so at first though. Like everyone else, she wanted to focus on cures and working towards a finale for everything--rightfully so. But there’s more to it, you know? Steps you have to take before you get there.”

“Such as?”

Barry smiled a little more sincerely now. “Finding out what started this thing.”

It was a noble cause, John could respect that. He had only interacted with Barry at work or the monthly party, never once truly within the man’s element. He had known he was impressive, and got a real feel for it while reading reports he’d written and shared online under the university’s name, but this changed how he saw the man. John felt his ranking of his previous coworkers begin to shift in his mind, as more emotional bonds were switched for respect.

Lup was waiting inside the laboratory when they arrived, fiddling with an erlenmeyer that contained some bright liquid at the bottom. She didn’t put it down when they entered and continued to twirl it by the neck in her hand.

John didn’t shy away from her hard stare. If she wanted to hurt him, she would put the piece down, and all she did now was threaten him with a harsh look.

“Long time no see,” he started for the both of them, and the greeting just made her eyes squint.

“Why are you here, John?”

Barry started forward between them. “Lup…”

“It’s fine, Barry,” John said. Lup turned half away to jot something down in a notebook, and by the time she turned back, John was standing in front of her. He dug his hands in the pocket of his jacket for something and then the spellcasting device out in the palm of his hand for her to retrieve.

Lup’s eyes widened just slightly, the malice in her expression gone only for a second before returning. “I don’t want this.”

“I have no more need for it.”

The flask in her hand changed then, a film of precipitate forming on top of the liquid rapidly. She turned back to her desk to write something else and set the flask down. John only noticed then that it was among nearly a dozen identical sets, all varying in intensity and amount, but undoubtedly the same substance in different concentrations and volumes.

By the time she returned, Lup snatched the device out of his hand and stared at it somberly.

Barry stood to the side and didn’t speak a word.

“It’s not fair,” Lup finally said, voice softer than before. He had a feeling these words weren’t meant specifically for him. “You--you two  _ love _ each other, you did for months. The fact it just, turned out like this… it’s fucking cruel.”

John didn’t bother correcting her use of present tense. “It doesn’t look like you’ve given up.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, not… not when Merle means so much to all of us. How could we just not?” Lup leaned back against the counter and let out a sigh, looking John up and down. “I suppose you wouldn’t be open to experimentation to try and counter the counter spell?”

“I… can’t agree to that, Lup. I’m far more content like this--like before.”

John had already been through too much toying with his emotions and mind in the past year for one man to go through altogether. Even though there would be consequences inflicted upon another, he couldn’t just forego his own well-being for the sake of somebody else; John deserved a chance at happiness too.

Lup appeared she wanted to argue, but bit her lip instead of speaking out. She nodded after a few beats of silence. “Yeah. Alright… alright.”

At his side, almost forgotten from the room entirely, Barry reappeared. “Do you need… anything else, John?”

Before him, the couple was absolutely despondent. Crumpled papers were scattered across the tables and floors of the lab, circles were under both of their eyes, Lup’s fingers twitched against the countertop, and Barry shuffled back and forth on obviously sore feet. John wondered how long they had been there, if they had gone back home recently, and what they were surviving off of.

_ It’s love _ , a voice said in the back of his mind. He didn’t dispute it; this was the result of two people who loved both one another and another dear friend so much they would go to these lengths. The evidence of love as flower petals John was familiar with was exchanged for poor test results and pieces of glass from test tubes that were dropped from tired hands. 

This is how they express their love, through actions more than words, in charity and effort.

“I wish you two the best of luck with your research… contact me if I can be of any help.”

The two nodded and returned to their work before John had even left the room.

John made his way back out of the building in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

He couldn’t understand a thing, but at one point, he knew he did.

The concept of love was something so foreign for how close it had once been. Entire wars were started and ended in its name, people were murdered for it, became murderers for it, and did a number of unthinkable acts. ‘Miracles’ were performed in love’s defense that required no further explanation.

John pondered the intensity of his own emotions a few months ago; would he have done the same? To what extent would he go for the sake of his own affections, the feelings he’d had for Merle? Perhaps he might not kill one for it, but he definitely thought twice about dying for the sake of it. Now it felt as if he was murdering to prevent himself from coming in contact with it, with that same  _ love _ he felt fear of.

No, John wasn’t afraid of love.

He was above it.

It was a plane he had already experienced and conquered.

The weather had turned colder while John was in the lab, and he shuffled his jacket closer to himself, sliding the gloves in his pockets onto his fingers. Winter would be coming sooner than he previously thought, meaning it would likely be the end to that group’s barbecues. Unless they changed their plans and held indoor parties instead?

There was no saying; John would never see another. It was a piece of information he would never gain.

He didn’t bother taking the scenic route home as he had earlier when he first left, opting for speed to remove himself from the cold, and John took to the familiar city streets. Not too many people were out tonight, thankfully, and the only ones who remained on the sidewalks were couples or families. It was all the same to him. Restaurants were alight with chatter and warmth, bars filtered music through their walls to the street, and store bells chimed as customers drove in and out easily.

Store bells… he stopped, turning to look up at the cause of the familiar ‘jingle’ as a woman walked out, carrying a bundle to her chest.

Right, this was why he had avoided walking through the city earlier.

Bougainvillea.

It had been a few weeks since Merle collapsed. Since then, John had not heard a single word of his condition. Taako didn’t bother updating him, and John didn’t bother asking. He could only assume from his conversation with Lup and Barry that he wasn’t well. John had been in the same situation--but this was different. John had never been  _ rejected _ .

Out of curiosity alone, he opened the door to the store and stepped inside.

Immediately, he was relieved to find the interior warmer than the outside, albeit a minor change. Usually it had been a cool respite from the heat of summer days. Nobody was at the counter, oddly enough, and he had to wonder if it was due to Merle’s absence. Maybe the entire store was on break without its primary manager to take care of everything, or maybe everyone was simply too busy.

A troubling thought occurred to him then; what would happen to Bougainvillea if Merle was gone?

Presence of love or not, it was a place filled with fond memories. Even if John could not comprehend it as well now, the store was home to the first friends he’d ever made as well as the scene of his entire first love. There were many happy moments in here that he could look back on kindly even now; he was not entirely devoid of emotion.

The satisfaction of learning every flower, the sense of accomplishment once he learned how to make arrangements, the smiles exchanged with his coworkers, the kind, positive ‘gossip’ shared between them… None of them were negative experiences, although those definitely came back up once he continued walking farther into the store.

The epiphany of what was happening to him, stopping his own pulse repetitively, avoiding speaking with people for fear of vomiting, refusing offers from his friends, and maneuvering out of positive situations for his own sake… the realization he might actually die like this…

It was a shop with a lot of significance behind it.

“John?”

He lifted his head just in time to see Julia emerge from the back room, holding the curtains up above her with one hand, and her pregnant belly in the other. It had been a while since he saw her, nearly two months now, and she had grown considerably. It was a definite sign Merle wasn’t around, else he would never let the woman work for fear of harming her.

She approached him with a kind smile that John returned, albeit less enthusiastic. “I’d heard from Barry that you were alive.”

“Yes… a lot has happened.” He looked around the room, inspecting all that had already changed. It was difficult to notice unless one had spent every day there for a good six months straight. The floors were messy, papers stacked in unorganized piles, and much of the flowers waiting out in the bins to be picked out were beginning to wilt. Shipments must’ve stopped recently, then. “Why are you alone here, Julia?”

Turning her body to the side, she nodded towards the back room. “Somebody has to finish the orders that were made in advance. Once these are done and everyone has picked up what they need, the shop will probably be closed for a while…”

“Merle?”

She nodded, smile beginning to fall. “He’s been in the hospital. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

The fact the shopkeeper was hospitalized was new information, but not surprising. John took it in stride with a nod, and with a wave of Julia’s hand, he followed her back to the other room. She was still at work, and John was content to mill around while he continued thinking.

He thought a lot these days, more than he ever had before.

“What will happen to this store,” John begins, choosing his words carefully, “if Merle is unable to return?”

With all her concentration devoted to the piece she was working on in front of her, Julia simply shrugged. “We don’t know. Magnus and I have discussed the idea of taking it over, but the transition would be hard with the baby coming. Lucretia has offered to come in and help out when she can.”

He hadn’t thought about her or any of the other visitors they had in forever. Included with them was Davenport, and Carey and Killian who he hadn’t seen in months. While they had never been close, they were more fond memories John was able to bring up for a good few seconds before quickly repressing again.

There was another person just as qualified as Sloane and Julia who could take care of the shop. Somebody who had already mastered arrangements, learned from the man himself, as well as running the store when Merle was out for the day. Someone who had learned the store inside and out the six months he had worked there, entirely capable of running it by himself if need be, and the fact Julia didn’t acknowledge it out loud hung heavy in the air between them.

Perhaps John didn’t give Julia enough credit; she knew more than he thought.

“Can you see it, John?” Julia asked. His eyes were drawn to the flowers in her hand being placed into the vase before her with careful ease. “What these flowers are saying?”

He looked at them. By now, he had all the names of every flower Bougainvillea carried down by heart. He could tell what each one in the arrangement was, could understand why she was arranging things the way she was, and acknowledged it was a beautiful piece.

But it didn’t speak to him.

If Merle taught him the language of communicating through flowers, John was now deaf.

Whatever voice the flowers once had was lost on him.

“I can’t.” He said it honestly, lacking any reason not to be.

“When did you know Merle loved you?”

“A week ago.”

She smiled, and for the first time, John didn’t feel compelled to mimic the expression. Julia must’ve caught on to the fact as her eyes turned sympathetic. “Funny, he never figured out you loved him, either.”

“When did  _ you  _ figure it out?”

“A few months in. Probably before you did.”

“Probably.”

“You don’t want him to die, John.”

John stood from where he had been leaning against the counter. Julia’s eyes didn’t leave the piece she was working on, and even if they had, she wouldn’t find much on John’s face to go off of. He’d returned to his ways of training his face into forced passive disinterest at all times.

“I don’t wish for him to die,” he conceded, and Julia nodded. “But how would you know?”

She simply hummed and placed another flower between the others. Tulips--same as the ones Merle had sent to him at the hospital, both yellow and red. They didn’t much suit her hands as well as the white lilies she stuck between them. “Call it maternal instincts.”

“I’m old enough to be your father,” John said, arms crossed.

She giggled and John wanted to smile. “Then call it daughternal.” Turning to him, he was met with another sincere smile that made John almost wish to understand what was happening in her head. Julia had always been the sweetest of the employees here, and one of his favorites to work with. She had a way with people that even applied to John, and that was special.

Perhaps he might not love her as he once did, but he could recognize why he once felt that way. She’s a good woman. The same could be said of Barry who he still respected but could no longer consider a friend, as well as Sloane and everybody else. They were all good, kind people, even now he could see that and understand how he’d befriended them.

Merle, on the other hand… was certainly nice. He was… friendly. Funny? And welcoming… but where had the line been drawn between him and the rest?

What made him different to John all those months ago?

There was someone who might know right before him.

He came up to stand across the table from where Julia was working, keeping his eyes trained on her hands, deft and efficient. “Why do you care for Merle, Julia?”

She didn’t seem surprised by the question at all, and didn’t bother asking where it came from. Instead, her face kept steady while she continued weaving stems and petals together. “Merle loves more than anyone I’ve ever met, and you can see it in everything he does. His love of people, flowers, good weather, old comedy skits, Kenny Chesney--they’re all so innocent, and he displays them outward to everyone. He’s… genuine.”

“And the others are not?”

She shook her head. “Not like that. Merle’s love for everything is his strongest feature, so much it makes you want to enjoy everything in life just as much. And he helps people find that peace.”

Like he’d helped John, pulling him out to every social event and helping him to understand the art of flower arranging--the art of expressing emotions. Merle had tried aiding John so many times and in so many ways, John couldn’t remember if he’d truly appreciated it enough. Now, he could be appreciative of his efforts, could say Merle put a lot of work into him

“John?” He looked up to find Julia staring at him, her arm reaching out to him with a lily in her hand. She tilted the flower towards him and smiled that same bright and gentle maternal smile that she’s mastered over the past couple months. “Would you like to help me with this?”

John could only stare at the flower in her hand, then back to the arrangement. Tulips, lilies… he could see them, certainly there, and could remember creating similar arrangements in the past, although the combination was not a common one. Slowly, he lifted a gloved hand to take the white flower from her, gently turning it around between his fingers as he regarded it.

White, pure lilies, and bright, colorful tulips. Other flowers that might go well with them, and the arrangement that would look best with them… the way to put them in the vase by each other.

He’d studied so hard before, and worked so diligently to impress Merle and receive the dwarf’s approval. It took months for him to be capable of creating an arrangement by himself, to be able to express himself in that way.

Julia watched him hopefully, and as soon as he caught her eye, the flower fell from his hand. He quickly shoved his hands back into his pockets.

“I’m sorry, Julia--I have to go.”

All Merle’s effort in helping John had been for naught.

He didn’t stay long enough to see her face fall and walked right back out of the room, crossing the store in long strides before he was throwing open the door and heading back into the cold. The wind bit at his cheeks, harsher now than before, and the gloves on his hands did little to protect his fingers, even in his pockets. 

Coming into Bougainvillea had been a mistake, he decided, but continued walking briskly down the street. He had made many mistakes before, though, and survived just fine. Soon he would be back at his house and he could strip off his layers, return to his books, and continue his own work. 

There was no place for him in that store anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taz finale fucked me up. i'm on my tumblr below writing no shortage of fix-it fics for my boy john, rip
> 
> leave comments or come send me a message on tumbl!


	16. Month 9 - Tool Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like 90% of john thinking and internal struggles so sorry if you prefer action but uh. there's some big of that too lol. 
> 
> today is the first day of class, please pray i can get the next chap up sometime reasonable 

John used the internet more recently than ever before. Given, he was not technologically impaired or anything--he worked in an office on the computer for decades. He was fine on operating, but surfing the internet recreationally? It was less familiar territory.

It was made easier by the fact most of his history was reading up on other people’s research, reports posted on university websites, and once he’d learned how to navigate them, he read formal forum discussions on topics that were relevant at the time. He never participated, only lurking, but it filled the day with something to do.

One forum for wizards provided the most interesting discussion, sometimes.

**robbiiee**   
_ Why can’t ppl just use the spell ‘speak with plants’ and just ask the flowers for the cure??? _

**weedzard402**   
_ The fuck do you want it to say, ‘thanks for asking, here u go?’ dumbass lol _

**Dr. Maureen Miller**   
_ Great question! Some people have already discussed questions similar to this one. The answer is, we already have the cure! If a cure is a process to relieve a victim of its disease or symptoms, then we’ve already found the answer in the most common counterspell offered to patients. The issue with it that’s being discussed here is the side effects of that cure. _

_ Most people are under the preconceived notion that the counterspell is used to remove emotions from people entirely. This is entirely false, and actually impossible to do, though there are spells that can mimic the effects! The counterspell is a literal cure for the curse in that it is able to remove it from the person’s body almost entirely. However, we are seeking to improve it every day due to its side effects. _

_ Imagine Hanahaki is a bridge connecting a person’s emotions, or ‘love’, to physical effects. The counterspell can break that bridge, but this separates their ability to love. Hanahaki victims are biologically different in this way that their ability to love must pass through an extra bridge before they’re expressed, though that bridge is typically dormant at all times. When it’s activated, a toll booth opens. And they have to pay in physical effects. Break that bridge, and not only is the toll booth removed, but so is any access to ‘love.’ _

_ This is an oversimplified explanation, as one cannot ‘remove’ an emotion from their body. Technically it is the bonds with Hanahaki between the curse and the emotion of love that are broken, not the emotion itself. There have been a few cases so far of people who have gotten the counterspell so early on in the process that they’ve managed to rid themselves of the curse with their emotions intact. However, it’s still too risky and dangerous of a process to perform like any other regular vaccination, as some have suggested. _

_ Keep thinking, we need more brains at work to help!!! :) _

**robbiiee**   
_ I was just trolling and feel bad now but thanks ma’am _

He knew it all by now, had been doing all of his research about what had been done to him. John knew all the symptoms and processes of the counterspell like the back of his hand by now--which, in retrospect, he should have done before he had it performed on him, but it wouldn’t have changed his mind.

Still, it didn’t offer any solutions or possible cures for Merle.

The dwarf would never consider removing the capability to love from his body, not when it was all he had. Like Julia said, Merle’s love for everything was his most defining feature. To live without that would be to not live at all, as much as John felt fine this way. Trying to imagine Merle without love was… difficult.

There had to be another way somewhere else.

Back when John was in the hospital, he had been faced with three possibilities; die, remove love, or confess. Now that Merle had been rejected, he could only die or have the counterspell, and knowing the old man, he would never get rid of his driving force.

But was there any way to undo that rejection, to somehow make it to where the ‘confess’ option was still viable? If only they could make Merle fall in love with somebody else, some other happy ending where John wouldn’t have to worry after him.

John took to his next best bet, unable to think of anything definite, and began exploring fantasy Youtube once again. He hadn’t been too fond of people’s personal experiences recently, at least not on this platform as they were always so  _ emotional _ in a way he was no longer capable of understanding. Enough people wrote formal reports or blog posts that were easier to consume without watching people blubber on camera for views.

But he was running out of material, and needed something to go off on.

As soon as John opened the page, his eye was drawn down to the ‘Recommended’ section, untouched since he last opened it.

One thumbnail held a vaguely familiar face, and he read over the title.

_ “Surviving Hanahaki and Introducing My Fiance” _

It was the same man from months ago who had made a video diary of his supposed last days, playing an original song on violin for the person his affections were towards.

He was alive--and John had seen him before, back at the grand opening of Taako’s restaurant as well.

Without thinking any harder on the topic, he clicked on the video.

It began with two different voices laughing together and muttering something back and forth before the camera focused. Only the original man--John glanced down at the channel name. Johann The Bard. Only  _ Johann _ was in frame at this time, but he could tell somebody else was waiting to the side. He was smiling and gave a small wave to the camera.

“Hey, guys… this is kind of awkward, seeing as last video was supposed to, uh… be my last,” he said, obviously trying not to laugh as the person off camera snickered. “But as you can see… I made it. And I want to thank everyone who left comments and sent me concerned messages. Especially my friend Robbie who sent the video to the person in question. Which uh, brings up the next thing…”

He scooted over where he was sitting and the other man, a dark elf, came into frame, grinning from ear to ear. As soon as he was visible, he linked their hands together and lifted Johann’s up to kiss the tops of his knuckles. Johann’s features softened considerably and he squeezed their locked fingers together.

“Basically, this is my fiance, Brian.”

John could hardly believe it.

He had  _ survived _ .

The man who had been rejected, documented his horrible experience, and wrote his own eulogy, was now celebrating his  _ engagement _ . On screen, the two were explaining how they’d come together and fixed his condition, developing over a few months until they simply decided to get married. They never stopped smiling and looking more at each other than the camera.

Feeling suddenly sick, John glanced over at the recommended sidebar. By now they were all videos on hanahaki and a few of Johann’s other pieces.

He clicked on a random one from another channel and watched as Johann and Brian left the screen, replaced with a young halfling with bright red hair. He recognized her, and was surprised to realize it was the same nurse who had treated him in the hospital, Noelle. He hadn’t gotten to know her very well, but he definitely didn’t expect this.

She grinned brightly, and John frowned. He skipped over the intro and into the middle of the video.

“--like that. It was like, my body just found its missing piece and for the first time, I could  _ breathe _ again!” she rattled on. “I’ve always been lovin’ Ren, but y’all, it felt like I was finally allowed to!”

The video changed as she continued speaking, flashing up different pictures of her and a dark elf woman holding each other and laughing. There isn’t a single serious picture, always smiling and in the middle of speaking.

“The whole thing… was scary, scarier than anythin’ I been through in my life. But it got me the most beautiful, the sweetest, the nicest girl I ever done met,” the girl said. She paused, looking down at her lap, and lifted a hand to wipe her eye.

Immediately, the flood gates came loose, and she covered her face with both hands.

“I thought everythin’ was over, and I’d die right there like that… somethin’ so scary turned into the best thing in my life… I love her so much--”

He switched the video to the next available.

It was a young human man this time, drinking a glass of whiskey. John did the same as the previous, skipping through the video for highlights.

“--wouldn’t really expect it, you know? I thought it just came to people who were sappy like that already, but there I was, fuckin’ coughing up petals and shit,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. “That was probably the weirdest part, right after realizing I was in love with one of my coworkers. Not even that close, you know? But one day, Lucas just said something… stupid, and I had to bolt.”

Skip.

“-n’t change it now, god, he’s everything to me… I never thought those romances were for me, a goddamn  _ mechanic _ , and a scientist? I wouldn’t give it for the world now, though… We aren’t a romance novel, it isn’t super cheesy and sappy every day, it’s just… right.” He smiles away from the camera, pausing for a second before running his hand through his hair. “It’s just  _ right _ .”

John went to the next video.

Two old women sat beside each other, holding hands as they’re interviewed. The one on the right, dark skin and bright white hair, spoke for the majority of the video.

He jumped to the middle. “I thought I’d been rejected,” she said, voice quiet and kind in a way that was instantly soothing. Her partner squeezed her hand. “Immediately, my chest felt tight, and I knew I was about to have an episode. They were all rotten when the petals came up. It was absolutely horrible.”

The dark haired woman leaned closer to meet her eye. “But I found you.”

She smiled brightly and held up their joined hands. “You found me. I was crying so hard--”

“I was so worried I did something to upset you.”

“--I was so happy. Raven simply held me while I coughed and coughed, rotten flowers slowly blooming again as they came up, until a full rose came out. It hurt, but it also felt like a significant end. I knew it was the last one I’d ever have again--thirty years later, I haven’t had to cough up a single petal.”

The woman named ‘Raven’ nodded in agreement. “We’ve made that day our anniversary.”

“Raven buys me roses every year.”

They shared a smile, ignoring the interviewer completely as they pressed their foreheads together for a tender moment before pulling away. It only lasted a second.

John turned off his monitor and stood from his seat.

He felt… off. Immediately John knew it had been a bad idea to watch those videos, as he wasn’t in possession of the necessary emotions to comprehend them. Now he was left confused, aching and hurt with the frustration of having once understood.

Hadn’t it been better like this? To have known at one point, then to look upon his experience from the outside objectively? It should’ve been enough that he experienced it at all, during some point of his life.

But now was different.

He couldn’t understand, he wanted to understand, he wanted to know why these people all insisted on putting their lives on the line--for what purpose? To die? Why would they not save themselves like he had, why do they choose to die?

Why was Merle choosing to die?

_ “Basically, this is my fiance, Brian.” _

_ “I love her so much.” _

_ “It’s just right.” _

_ “We’ve made that day our anniversary.” _

This had all been what people with hanahaki dreamed of--nobody wanted to die. Everyone wished for their own happy ending, and this was what Merle was missing out on. Those emotions people felt, they were willing to die for them.

This was what John had taken away from Merle.

This was what  _ John _ missed out on.

Did he want this? It was hard to determine. Sure, they were all happy people, and who didn’t want to be happy? But people were happy with a multitude of careers he wouldn’t want, living places he hated. It didn’t mean the same things for the same people.

And even if he didn’t know if he wanted it, there was no doubt Merle did. John had robbed him of that; he put out the opportunity for these happy, romantic outcomes in front of him, and snatched it away. Merle hadn’t just wanted this easy happiness--he wanted it  _ with John _ .

The idea made his stomach turn. 

Merle wanted this to be them. He was in love with John.

John didn’t love Merle. But loving and being loved were two different things entirely, and while he didn’t have to worry about one, there’s no way to stop someone from loving  _ you _ . There weren’t any manuals on how to cope with being loved, how to react, how to respond.

Instead of allowing Merle to have that happy life, John had killed him.

Not knowing what to do, John shrugged on his coat and left his house. He didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, and no one to go to, but staying in that home felt dangerous. There was too much nothingness, not enough distractions, and the city street provided at least that.

John didn’t love Merle.

He physically  _ couldn’t _ , not anymore.

Even so, he still felt… guilty. He had deprived someone, someone he was once close to, of a perfectly normal and happy life, basically killing them in the process. And for what purpose, other than to continue his own work researching emotions and personal satisfaction?

In his pockets, he kept his hands clutched tight around his gloves, but didn’t put them on. John continued walking briskly through the city and maneuvered through anyone in his way as to not slow down for a second.

All this time, he had been fine with feeling no sense of love. He never needed it. He still didn’t need it, didn’t want it at all. People lived their entire lives without romantic relationships normally all the time, completely fulfilled and happy by themselves. It was how he expected to live out the rest of his life.

It was never supposed to go like this. It was never supposed to be this complicated.

If only he had never read that card on the arrangement from his boss.

If only he’d never walked in that store.

If only he’d never met Merle Highchurch.

John passed the flower shop, and minutes later Del Taako as well. He belonged in neither of those places, wasn’t invited even if he was. He had been the one to ruin everything, to hurt Merle who everyone was so close to.

John never needed love, and he never needed friends. But now, to have experienced both, and lose them so quickly?

It was as if his body wanted so badly to feel an emotion it was incapable of, fighting back against cages set around it. Instead, he felt hurt, agitated beyond belief, and had too many conflicting emotions than he was able to deal with. His life had been so simple until he started working there, so simply simple and without any of this mess.

He had thought the counterspell meant he could return to that time of easy peace. But it only made things worse.

The sun had completely set by the time John stopped walking. He looked up at the sky, surprised to see the dark clouds overhead signalling nighttime as the streetlights turned on. Even if he turned around now he would still be walking in the dark--there was no point in going back now rather than later. John turned just enough to see the building he had stopped in front of.

Perhaps it was a stretch to believe Merle would be in the same hospital John had stayed at. It wasn’t one of the many topics that had come up between them, but it was worth a shot, for whatever reason he felt he had to come here.

There were a ton of hospitals in this city, John told himself as he entered and walked up to the nurse’s desk. It wasn’t too busy at this time of day, and he didn’t have to wait more than a second before a familiar nurse looked up from a paper and smiled at him.

He cut her off before she could greet him. No doubt she would ask how he was doing, and now knowing her story, he didn’t want to hold conversation with her. “Is there a Merle Highchurch being treated here currently?”

The halfling woman didn’t even have to think before responding. “There is--same elf guy has been visitin’ him that saw you, are you friends?”

He mentally reeled. “Something like that.”

John cut the conversation off once he had the room number and quickly shuffled to the elevator. It was no surprise that Taako visited often, and he had no doubt the others did as well. Honestly, he’d be more surprised to discover a window of time where Merle didn’t have one of his dozens of friends visiting him. John would be lucky if there was nobody in there now, even.

Out of all the horrors and terrible luck he’d had the past eight months, it seemed fate was on his side in that small way today--for two reasons. Not only was nobody in the room, but Merle was sound asleep.

John only watched through the window of the hospital room. To go inside was to make it real, to actually confront everything that was going on.

Merle was sleeping peacefully in the same kind of bed John had been in just a while ago, but the white sheets had been torn aside, replaced with thick, quilted blankets. The rest of the room was covered in bright gifts and trinkets, from flowers to drawings (presumably from his children) and cards stacked on a side table. There was color all around.

John could hardly tell they had been in the same table, as all he remembered was white.

Plain, bland white, with only one visitor who came to do business.

He’d sat alone for so long, reading by himself, making stale interactions with the nurses and doctors who came in.

The two of them had always been different people.

John didn’t know why he had ever let himself think any differently.

He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching in the empty hall, ready to walk out of a nurse’s way only to find Magnus standing behind him. He was holding a brown paper bag with the logo of some restaurant on the side, and stared at John openly. 

“I… didn’t know you were coming to visit him,” Magnus said, bashfully looking away from John’s face. “I can come back later--he’s really been wanting to see you, you know--”

“Go ahead, I was just leaving.”

“What? Hey, wait a second!” He took a step out in front of where John was making a move to leave. John could outrun Merle any day, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try his luck with Magnus Burnsides. Or any Burnsides. Magnus met his eye with a stern expression. “You can’t just leave, why else did you come here if not to see him?”

There were a ton of reasons, and none of them would make sense to anyone who had the good fortune of living outside of his mind. John didn’t bother backing down though, knowing Magnus was too good to try and physically force him into the room. He might get angry at John, sure but he wouldn’t force him to do anything.

“Just to see, that’s all,” he shrugged, and can quickly see the anger rising in Magnus’s face at the unsatisfactory answer. “You know what’s happened, Magnus--everybody does.”

“He still wants to see you.”

“I’m not the same person that he… ‘fell in love’ with. I’m not the John he wants to see right now.” John walked forward just enough to pat Magnus’s bicep as he passed him. “You’d do better spending your time with him than I would. Take care, Magnus.”

The younger didn’t move from where he was standing, and John almost didn’t hear him speak up. “I’ll tell him you visited.”

He stopped long enough just to turn around and stare at Magnus’s back. “You would only be killing him quicker.”

Everyone he had encountered said the same thing; that it was a shame, a tragedy, and they were all mourning together.

It made John feel… uneasy, and also restless.

Because he couldn’t have been  _ wrong _ . He couldn’t have made the wrong decision.

Right now, John was content with where he was in life. He had interests again, he had things to do, ideas to keep himself busy with. There was nothing clouding his judgement or stopping him from advancing forward as he so wished for before.

He didn’t love Merle--not right now, he couldn’t. But it was simply fact that at one point, he had. During that time, everyone else had been so happy and full of life, always celebrating something and smiling. They had been John’s friends, and even though he’d been suffering through his own issues and condition, he could admit he enjoyed it too.

How much did it matter that he was happy with himself if so many others were being hurt?

John could see the horrified look on Taako’s face, the absolute self-loathing of a man who believed this to be his fault entirely. Lup and Barry who hadn’t slept in who knew how long, working tirelessly to save their friend. Julia who had been so hopeful to try and get John’s help, and the flash of disappointment on her face when he left. Magnus, so angry at the world, broken and defeated.

John was happy.

But he may not have been right.

In fact, this was the first time John thought he may have actually made a mistake.

He couldn’t decide if his own personal satisfaction was worth more than a life. A life he once cared for, that touched so many other people. He would have not only ruined one person, but a dozen, if not even more.

John was still capable of making rational decisions. He was not a cruel man who delighted in the pain of others. There was no pretending this did not have to do with John anymore.

He had to make another decision.

Walking aimlessly through town, John pictured the white hospital room once more, imagining himself sitting beneath those stark bland sheets. Back then, there had been three options.

What did he have now?

The first and most obvious route was that he did nothing. There was little he could do anyways, and no one could blame him for choosing that option. He was incapable of feeling love, what motivation would he have to help Merle? John would go about his regular, daily life as normal, studying and reading. Merle would die. All of his friends would mourn, likely never the same.

It would be a cruel death for the dwarf who only ever loved with all of his heart. Some would say he had it coming for him.

The second option… surely existed, somewhere.

There was no convincing Merle to get the counterspell done--in fact, John was sure there was no way he could even speak with Merle in the first place. It would be enough to kill him right then and there from the emotional toll it’d take alone. If John did decide to act, it would be with the assistance of others, and likely without ever confronting Merle personally.

That last dinner may have been their final interaction entirely.

John kicked a rock in his path on the sidewalk.

If Merle could not get the counterspell, then it left the ball in John’s court. He couldn’t fake being in love, and Merle would surely know he was lying if he pretended to confess. There was no ‘explaining’ what happened, either; rejection was rejection. John had learned firsthand that hanahaki gave no concern for rational thought or logic.

The only thing left was for John to somehow regain the ability to love; a feat magicians and scientists together had been trying to discover for years.

John didn’t bother walking back to his house. The night air, cold as it was, suited him in a way that kept him awake and alert. He needed to be able to think right now, more rationally, more logically than before.

He had to make the decision to do nothing and live on as normal, or put his life at stake for an unsure cause that, as it was now, offered him no benefit. A familiar life that he had already experienced for fifty years with no plans in sight.

Or a chance.

No, John wasn’t sitting in that hospital room--he was back at home, holding the card from a bouquet given by his office on his last day.

He took a chance going to Bougainvillea, which so far was debatable whether it had been positive or negative. Neutral.

He took a chance going to the first party, and he’d had a good time with the people there. Net gain.

Learning to arrange flowers, and he accidentally opened himself to be understood more than he was ready for--net loss. Confiding in Taako for help, then he received it, trusting in someone else--net gain. Staying at work despite everything occurring simultaneously, hurting more than ever before--net loss. Going to the race for one last good memory--net gain.

Getting the counterspell and breaking Merle’s heart.

John stopped walking and took a deep breath.

He was frustrated, trying to open a door that had been long since closed to make a decision. It wasn’t that he had an unbiased opinion now--he didn’t have all the pieces he needed to see clearly.

He had been reasoning with love this entire time, and took the very tool he’d been using away from himself. All of it, deciding to work, deciding to make friends, to trust others had all been the work of something like love.

“ _ Imagine Hanahaki is a bridge connecting a person’s emotions, or ‘love’, to physical effects. The counterspell can break that bridge, but this separates their ability to love.” _

After removing the emotion from his reasoning, John was able to find interests and hobbies on his own, a fascination with philosophy and things to fill his day with.

But the longing for more, the  _ hunger _ never left.

Even unable to give love, it appeared he still yearned to receive it.

“ _ When it’s activated, a toll booth opens. And they have to pay in physical effects.” _

John didn’t return home that night; now, he had made up his mind, and made a decision.

And god knew he only had so long to act.

_ “Break that bridge, and not only is the toll booth removed, but so is any access to ‘love.’” _

* * *

Barry was waiting for him inside, just as he had a few days prior, and stood more urgently once John was visible. He opened the door and stumbled out, this time with Lup on his heels, staring at him apprehensively. 

“It’s 1AM, John,” she said as he met them halfway. But John shook his head at the attempt to speak outside, waiting until they allowed him in the building and to a room where they could all sit down. The dark circles had not left the couple’s eyes, and the meeting room was even messier than the lab itself.

Always the more courteous, Barry went ahead and poured an extra cup of coffee and set it before John after handing Lup hers. He accepted it with a small thanks, nearly downing the entire thing immediately. He wasn’t tired by any means, but he would need to stay awake longer tonight.

Lup regarded him over the rim of her mug. “So, why’d you come all the way out here at fuck all hour of the night?”

“I need your help.”

Both of their eyes widened considerably, and Lup set her drink down to stare at him with her mouth hanging open. Evidently neither of them expected him to return, especially not with any help for their current dilemma. John could imagine how they felt, the one key piece they need to make progress while at a stalemate simply waltzing into their hands.

Barry was the first to lean forward and respond. “John, we’re more than happy to have your assistance, but--it’s going to take some time for us to come up with a way around the counter spell, and you need to understand that we may not even succeed--”

“I don’t care about the counterspell,” John said, voice firmer now.

This was the only thing he could do.

In his head, he turned the business card over in his hand.

_ -Bougainvillea- _

_ The Bargain-Ville-a for Affordable yet Tasteful Floral Arrangements _

“I want you to curse me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's left comments, messages on tumblr, and especially people who’ve drawn [fanart](http://ludella.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart), you're all amazing!!


	17. Month 9 - Cold Petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo wooHOO!! i'm so glad we're finally here, i've been super stressed about this chapter and making sure i do it right. it feels SO good to have it done. thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments or messaging on tumblr or reaching out in any way, i love talking to everyone and seeing what you all think!!! it's been so much fun
> 
> next chapter is the finale!

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m perfectly here.”

Lup challenged John with a serious stare. He didn’t look away, and after a minute she let out a groan and leaned back in her chair. “I can’t believe--you couldn’t just come and let us do our work, you think you know better?”

“We  _ are _ professionals, John,” Barry chimed in. “Why don’t you let us handle what to do?”

John shook his head. “There’s not enough time for that--it’s possible, isn’t it? You two are the ones studying the isolation and origins of hanahaki, surely you know enough to cast the same curse on somebody.”

Lup’s eyes looked as if they would widen out of her head, and Barry fiddled with his cup for lack of anywhere else to stare. It was naive to believe they hadn’t thought anything similar before, or that John was the first person to come up with this solution. But he had never heard of it being done before, likely because no one had ever known enough about the curse before.

There were instances in the past of people trying to ‘force’ the curse on another by readministering the symptoms, spawning plants in their lungs and giving them an incessant cough. They only ever went horribly, though, and not only did the subject die almost immediately, but there was no sign of their ability to love returning.

It was all or nothing.

“It’s possible,” Lup finally said, and Barry turned to her in surprise, wanting to argue before she kept speaking. “But it’s never been done before, with the resources we have now. That kind of experimentation is inhumane, you know. You’d have to sign a million waivers first so we don’t get fired, and that’s because you’ll definitely  _ die _ if you do.”

The younger human man rubbed at his temples. John could easily tell neither of them were too keen on the idea, but he could also see a small bit of hope in the way they didn’t outright reject him, either. “We can only guess what’ll happen like this,” Barry said. “If we don’t have all our research right, there’s a chance we’ll hit you with something completely different and new, in which you may die. If we do have it correct… there’s no telling what’ll happen.”

Lup nodded. “We’ll have to do some work first to see if it’s possible but… I don’t want you to waste our time, John. We could be using it to do other things, other possibilities, and if you’re not serious, then you need to back out now.”

Definitely die and surely die were the two options they presented to him. It wasn’t like John didn’t expect it; this was a dangerous situation, probably the most he’d ever been in willingly. Once they did whatever it was they came up with, there was no going back--things would either work out, or he and Merle would both die. It wasn’t fifty-fifty, either; a solid ninety-nine to one chance. But that one was the highest chance Merle had.

“Are you willing to die, or are you going to wuss out later?”

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“I’ll do what it takes.”

Lup didn’t let up on her stare, and John returned the challenge. She was waiting for him to back down, to show some morsel of regret or uncertainty, anything she could use for him to back out and continue her own work.

But he knew how much Lup cared for Merle, and knew it outweighed anything else right now. She would accept the offer.

Sighing, the elf stood from her seat. “Barry, go get some waivers.”

He followed right after her. “Lup, you can’t possibly--”

“The best test subject we could ask for just waltzed into our hands; we’ve only got a few days to do this, Bear.”

The need to argue lingered on his face, and he looked between the two of them before nodding in resignation. “Alright… alright.”

It would’ve been better if John had come to his senses any sooner. By this time, it was amazing Merle was still alive, likely only due to his friends’ many connections and magics. At this stage of the curse, he could go out any day now, and it was just a matter of counting down the hours they had left to come up with something.

John stood from his seat to follow the two arcanists down the hall and into the lab.

There was a lot of work to be done in a short amount of time.

* * *

John only returned to his house to pick up a few changes of clothes and other necessities, buckling down into the same lifestyle as Barry and Lup. They had a ‘nap room’ which had a couch with a few blankets, and the two often took turns sleeping whenever was convenient and waking up to continue working. There wasn’t much else to the place.

He was here specifically to be picked and prodded at, and although it wasn’t like they could take samples from him like a doctor would, there was plenty to be done. The two were constantly testing his resistance to magic, what he could endure, and some other tests they came up with for whatever other data they needed. John didn’t ask too many specific questions; it would take up time they could be using doing tests.

Given he was only needed to provide data every now and then, John took to becoming the errand boy that ensured the two arcanists stayed alive. For nearly a week, he went out on food runs and restocked the small fridge they had in the building. He kept the lab clean and straightened their papers and records when they weren’t in use. Organization and filing was his strong suit, after all. He didn’t mind any of the work, as he picked it up as needed by his own free will.

The relentless hours of work took its toll on everyone present.

It was truly a week of apprehensive pain and anxiety.

The three of them worked nonstop in the lab almost every hour of the day. In the hospital, Merle’s life was undoubtedly slipping farther and farther away. All his friends--all  _ their _ friends were mourning ahead of time for the suffering of one of their closest companions.

Not a single person was free of hardship or worry.

It all came to a head when, after returning to the lab with bags of food in his hands, John found Barry and Lup standing together without speaking. It was an immediate red flag, given the two were always running around and hectically shouting across the room instead of communicating in any humane fashion--not because they were worried, but it was simply their nature to be wild when put together.

John set the bags on a clean table and approached them. They both turned towards him with drawn, tired faces.

“John.”

He felt his entire body tense.

They had it. But neither of them were smiling, and if John had to say, he’d think he’d never seen them so downtrodden--likely because, through the week of unending research, they had found nothing that might make this safer for him. It had been meaningful time nonetheless, and the two had made many tweaks and changes to perfect everything. But nothing seemed to guarantee his safety.

Now that John had actually turned himself over and decided to help them help Merle, he was back in their good graces. It was reassuring that at least Lup and Barry would feel bad about his dying.

“Just tell me what I need to know,” he said.

Lup turned to nod at Barry who read off a stack of piled papers they must’ve gathered earlier today. “The curse being administered is an off-brand ‘hanahaki’ so to say, in that hanahaki hasn’t actually been cast in hundreds of years. There’s no telling if every intricate detail will be perfect, and if it isn’t, you will die.

“Immediately following the casting of the spell, we hypothesize that, to go off the metaphor you’ve been using, that ‘bridge’ will be reconnected, and there is a lot that has to cross it. So much that you will either immediately begin coughing, suffocate or be poisoned, and die,  _ or _ ,” he paused to take a deep breath, “the flowers will bloom in your lungs immediately, and the moment you speak you will begin coughing, and then you will die. The final possibility is that they may wait as regular hanahaki does until you develop romantic thoughts,  _ then  _ bloom in your lungs, and if it does not poison you and cause you to die, it will immediately kill you as soon as you begin coughing. And you will die.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

Neither of them even smiled. “John…” Lup began, approaching him with a few steps forward, “I know you’re sure about this but… if you have everything ready to go, me and Barry are wanting to do this like, tomorrow.” 

Beside her, Barry nodded. “If you have anything you need to do, or anyone you need to see--”

John cut him off with a raise of his hand. “I don’t. I’ll be ready when you are.”

“And if you do die?” Lup nearly crushed the papers in her hand while she spoke. “Do you not have anything to tell anyone at all?”

“You can do a better job explaining my emotions to Merle than I could.”

By her sigh, it was obvious she had given up, and turned to leave the room. Barry gave John a time tomorrow that they would begin and told him to get one good night’s rest. But John didn’t bother going home that night, knowing the long walk would give him the perfect amount of time to change his mind.

There was no point in going back now. He’d already come this far.

John gathered one of the spare blankets left lying around, made a spot for himself in one of the laboratory chairs, and tried to fall asleep. He didn’t rest well, and he didn’t dream.

When he did wake, it was to the sound of Lup and Barry returning to the lab. They both had their wands in hand and John stood to greet the two of them. They may have gotten more sleep last night than the week prior, but they didn’t look any better than before. In fact, they may not have slept at all--it was incredibly likely they stayed up to continue working.

“You ready for this?” Lup asked as they wandered over to another section of the building which contained no shortage of magical equipment and barriers to perform dangerous spells behind. “The moment I cast the curse, we’re going to keep you in a barrier for a few minutes while Barry charges up a few spells to keep the symptoms down, just in case. If you die, you die. If you don’t, you’re on your own from there.”

John agreed to the terms and settled himself behind the barrier set up in the middle of the room. The idea of being by himself afterwards was entirely his own, not wanting to involve the couple in his own dilemma any further. There was not much else they could do for him after restoring his emotions anyways.

Lup followed him into the center of the room, stretching her arms over her head and shaking her entire body to wake up. Behind a wall of some enchanted glass, Barry called over. “By the way, John--what do you even plan on doing after this?”

He was centered in the room by Lup, removing his jacket casually to drape over the arm of the only chair there. “You know, Barry, I have no idea.”

Both of them blanched, and John simply watched as the color drained from their faces.

And then Lup began to laugh, loud and for the first time since he’d been here. “Fuck, whatever, you lunatic! Now you really can’t die!”

It was a judgement call on John’s part. There was no point in him trying to come up with a plan for what he would do, given the entire reason behind this was to return his emotions so he  _ could _ make a plan. It was useless to think about now. He just had a feeling that as soon as he was restored to normal, had that access to ‘love’ once again, he would know what to do.

And god he hoped he wasn’t having too much confidence in himself.

John sat in a designated chair alone in the middle of the room, padded and filled with all sorts of enchantments to withstand whatever spells were thrown around it. Lup was within the main barrier, but held back so that there was no risk of her getting any wave of what was coming. Not that it would hurt her, John thought--no love was as strong and returned as hers with Barry. Except, evidently, John’s own; but he’d have to wait to think about that.

“Are you ready, John?” Barry called, flipping some switches and performing a number of tasks John didn’t bother trying to understand.

Before him, Lup readied her wand and gave him a thumbs up.

John nodded. “More than I’ll ever be.”

The counterspell had been like a surgery. John went in, was given anesthesia, and woke up hours later after the spell had been cast. It was a delicate process that required a lot of time and care to cast. When he did wake up, it was in a nice hospital bed, and he was immediately led into recovery. There were kind nurses, doctors, and therapists to help him off of his feet.

It was peaceful, slow, and calm.

Being cast with hanahaki was different.

The initial force of the spell coming from Lup’s wand pressed him against the back of the chair for merely a moment, and then John was left to wait as magic is poured into his body. It was… invasive. He could feel it seeping through every pore of his body, violating every vein with targeted attacks. Weaving through his circulatory system, then his respiratory, and then nervous, until his entire body was buzzing with an anxious energy that wouldn’t sit still.

It was uncomfortable. It was painful.

But it was necessary.

Barry and Lup exchanged a few words he couldn’t hear over the hum of magic in his ears, and John felt his body double over from the strain of the heavy spell. Perhaps this may have been tested better on someone younger, someone fitter who could withstand higher pressures and instances like this. He could hear the two saying something else and slowly realized the noise in his ears was not the spell itself, but a ringing due to his own lightheadedness.

The laboratory may not have had as nice beds as the hospital did, but the chair was enough to lean back in as he lost consciousness. 

He wasn’t afraid of it, per se, and didn’t fight back as he was slowly dragged under and into a deep sleep. He hadn’t gotten that much rest since coming here, so it was only natural, wasn’t it? Lup and Barry were capable of handling him, and no doubt they knew this was a possibility.

Barry’s precautions played over in his head. At least if John did die now, he wouldn’t be aware of it. He’d prefer to not be conscious, to simply sleep without waking up and leave the rest of the world behind like that. It’d be a peaceful way to go, without any pain, without worrying for the next day or anyone else.

After what may have very well been hours, John slowly returned to his senses, sitting in the same chair in the testing chamber as before. Only Lup was by his side. She watched him curiously and did not appear particularly relieved to see him waking up. 

“John?” she said, waving her hand in front of his face. “You good, buddy?”

Though he tried to speak, his voice only left as a groan. He could hardly sit up in this condition, like he’d been hit with a ton of bricks then made to sleep for ten years. By the time he managed to straighten himself out, she had her hand outstretched to pull him into a standing position. “Thank you,” he sighed and shook his head. “I’ve felt better, but… it could be much worse.’

It seemed a good enough answer to her. Lup led the two of them out of the barrier and through the doors towards the main hallway, then into the meeting room where Barry was waiting. He raised his brows in slight surprise when John walked in--he must not have expected things to work. “Good to see you’re alive--that walk over here was the real test.”

“I managed, somehow. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

The stiffness in his legs was already wearing off. If only John had a few fantasy aspirin or whatever pain killer for his head, he’d be right as rain. It was really no different than a cold. Slowly the realization that he had survived made its way into his head, and John sighed in deep relief. He hadn’t been afraid of dying--but it was also nice to be alive.

His chances had been somewhere around ninety-nine to one. Being able to breathe was a miracle in and of itself, and he’d never been so grateful to feel air filling his lungs. 

Just as he opened his mouth to make conversation, Lup cut him off.

“So,” she began, arms folded over his chest. “What’s the plan?”

“Pardon?”

“Merle.”

Shit.

John felt his entire body go cold, and evidently it showed in his face as Barry’s expression went sympathetic.

He slowly wound down into a spiral, unable to keep himself anchored in the present as the events of the past clawed at his mind. Images of scenes already past, and he considered them as one would a movie, as if he were not familiar with the person he’d been at those times.

And he wasn’t--that man was different. It had never occurred to him before just how much he had changed, and how important that development truly was.

The impact of the spell itself had nothing on the realization of all he had done. 

Now, fully aware and with all of his emotions back in place, John allowed himself to reflect on the past few months in quick succession. Flashes of Merle’s hurt face in the restaurant, Taako’s anguished pleas for his help, Julia reaching out to him, Magnus’s anger. He couldn’t only understand them from an objective perspective, and now, he could sympathize with them.

He boiled with Magnus’s anger at himself, was grateful for Julia who’d attempted to help him, respected the unyielding determination of Lup and Barry, and truly, wholeheartedly felt all the self-loathing pain Taako had expressed. It had never been the wizard’s fault, and John acknowledged it even back then--it was all John.

He had been so cruel.

Merle was dying.

Merle loved him back.

Merle was  _ dying _ .

It felt as if his insides were rearranging themselves, from his head to his toes, bones and all. They dragged the bottom layer of his skin with them, his entire body on fire as ‘love’ and all that came with it ran rampant through his system. What had he done?

What had he been  _ doing _ ?

The all too familiar sensation of a burning flutter in his chest made John clamp a hand over his mouth. Barry was out of his seat instantly and spoke with a firm voice. “Don’t say anything!” He rushed over to where John was now standing and pulled his wand out. “The good news is that things went the best case scenario, as if the curse is making up for lost time--as long as you don’t  _ say _ or  _ do _ anything major, you should be fine until me and Lup can--”

John pushed the younger man out of the way and made for the door.

Lup must’ve stopped Barry, as no one followed after him as he retrieved his coat and left the laboratory entirely.

For the past two, no, three months, Merle had been suffering as a result of John’s actions. Somewhere along the lines, they had both grown the same affections for each other and been too unable to communicate them. But Merle had tried, god, he tried so much more than John had. He was willing to die for the sake of his love, and John had run from it.

John was alone for over fifty years.

He didn’t care for anyone else, and was never cared for  _ by  _ anyone else.

He cruised through life off of effort and avoiding creating unnecessary bonds, always bored, always hungry, searching for something to satiate him.

It took so long to find it, took so long to meet people he was capable of connecting with, and he’d abandoned and hurt them all.

He was still alive, though. He still had time to fix all of this.

John walked briskly through the city streets with a hand tight over his mouth, focusing on keeping his breath steady. The moment he overreacted, the moment he spoke, he would be dead before the first petal could come out of his throat.

It didn’t leave him in a good position. Both he and Merle were in incredibly fragile condition, each knocking on death’s door. The smallest wind threatened to blow them over. It wasn’t as if he could simply go to see Merle in person--he couldn’t speak, and just seeing John might be enough to send Merle over the edge he’d been teetering on. A text on the phone wouldn’t be enough, nor would a note; it had to be meaningful and brief, something Merle could take in a short amount of time and understand.

Nobody else could say it, and neither could John himself.

Without showing up in person, without writing, without words, how could he express the necessary feelings he’d been repressing for all this time?

The answer had always been obvious from the start, and John didn’t stop walking as arrived at his destination. He threw open the doors to Bougainvillea, unlocked, and marched right in. Somebody either was or had been here today--good, he would need someone else’s assistance. 

_ An expression of genuine emotions and feelings without words. _

John cursed when he caught sight of the flowers in the bins out front--nearly every single one was already rotten by now. He could remember Julia mentioning that they’d stopped receiving shipments, unsure if Merle would even be returning to the store. He dug through for whatever he could, only able to salvage a few  _ almost _ wilted flowers and bunching them in one hand to take to the back.

This wasn’t enough to work with. It looked more like what a child would pick from his mother’s garden and leave out in a mug of water, not a formal flower arrangement. Parts of the petals were dried or turning brown, the stalks withering and they just looked so  _ clumsy  _ in his hand.

He stopped only to take a deep breath, wincing at the brush of  _ something _ physically inside his chest. It was an ever present reminder of the clock that was ticking.

As John walked into the workroom, he immediately caught sight of color from the corner of his eye and followed it.

The refrigerator was still full of flower arrangements that had yet to be picked up.

He tossed what little he had on the work bench and threw open the freezer door; there were more important things than some couple’s anniversary right now. John didn’t bother reading any of the tags or looking through them, taking each and every vase of flowers out of the fridge and setting them on the table.

There weren’t a ton, maybe a dozen or so that filled the table nicely. Although it wasn’t the amount of variety he would prefer, it was still more to work with than he had before.

John pulled a new vase down from one of the shelves and began picking flowers.

He had a clear mind, and all the tools necessary to think finally restored.

For the first time in months, John allowed himself to think, regardless of the burn it caused in his chest.

He was in love with Merle, and had been for longer than he knew. It was unreasonable that he’d forgotten how or why, but now, it seemed so  _ obvious _ . If he hadn’t loved him before, John would have immediately fallen as soon as his emotions were restored. 

It was in the way he laughed and smiled at his friends, but also in his kindness towards every stranger he met that walked through the door. His dedication and care to every piece he worked on. The large heart he wore on his sleeve.

John plucked a few daffodils out of a ‘get well’ arrangement, bouvardia from the same vase.

It was how Merle never gave up on John, try as he might to run away from his friendship and affections. He was the first person to seek him out, to enjoy his company and continue maintaining that relationship. Goofy as the man was, he held up the most intelligent and wise conversations John ever had. They were able to speak back and forth evenly, listening to each other, learning from each other.

As much as Merle had helped John, he had a feeling his words and actions did something similar for the dwarf. They’d grown off each other, like plants providing protection from different pests and helping the other just by thriving.

Bright red amaryllis and heliotrope from an anniversary gift.

John gave up on himself and his own emotions. He’d decided it would be best to return to the way he’d been before, alone and without love from anyone in his life. But how did one experience such sweet, happy emotions and turn back?

Merle was braver--he met his feelings head on and didn’t back down, even if it meant his own demise. He couldn’t live without them, how could he? They were his greatest joy in life, and to remove such happiness would be to not live at all.

He respected Merle’s love of life, his love of love.

There was no reason for him to die for it.

He maneuvered gardenia flowers from a wedding bouquet into the empty spaces.

The arrangement was not so pretty up close. Maybe not so pretty far away either.

The colors contrasted, from bright yellows to reds and purples. Each cluster of daffodils was surrounded by a bundle of heliotrope, the amaryllis bordered in bouvardia. Gardenia in between. Even so, it was not enough, and John returned to the few flowers he had saved from the front of the store. John knew their life expectancy--they must have been part of the last shipment they received, still somewhat alive and only slightly withered at the edges.

Bundles of yellow and red tulips filled the rest of the arrangement out, blooming separately among the other flowers.

It clashed.

The small bundles of foliage did little to help the random distribution of bright colors, but John left it like that.

It wasn’t hectic enough--it was still too calm.

John glanced up across the table and took in all the flowers presented in each different arrangement. He took note of one, then another, and another, then made a plan.

Scabiosa, vervain, cyclamen, and chrysanthemums. 

He put the four together at the very center of the arrangement, peeking out of the top and surrounded by the rest. They were the same flowers that he’d coughed out of his throat in the months prior, and the flowers that Merle presented to him in a personal arrangement--all of them besides one.

John returned to another wedding bouquet to pluck two white camellias, wedging them in the very center between stalks of vervain and scabiosa.

He stepped back. If the flowers clashed before, they were a storm now.

To an outsider, the crazy arrangement would make no sense--they were random flowers thrown in together with no thought or effort. The tulips were wilting. The heliotrope and bouvardia, next to each other, contrasted. The different shapes of the cyclamen and amaryllis fought for the eye.

It was a mess.

There was no way he could try to fix it or approach it any other way, it was what it was; an expression of genuine emotions and feelings without words. They were his feelings, and though he could feel his sight clouding, the flowers before him were shouting them out for the world to hear.

_ I love you _ , they said, louder than any words John could ever hope to muster.

John took another step back. And then another, until his back was pressed against the wall. He wiped sweat from his forehead and slowly lowered himself to sit down and bury his head between his knees. He felt dizzy, more lightheaded than before, and kept his hand over his mouth as black spots filled his vision. The door had been unlocked when he came in; somebody would eventually return and do the rest for him, taking it to the hospital.

Even if he didn’t get the chance to say so aloud, Merle would understand.

It was a confession, and it would be enough; even if John were to die here, it would no longer be unrequited.

The flowers, more vibrant than anything John had ever arranged, would continue screaming his sentiments long after he wilted.  _ I love you _ , they said, and continued speaking long after John closed his eyes, listening for the chime of the shop’s bell. A small cough escaped from his throat, and no petals come with it.

That’s right, he thought, as consciousness slowly slipped from his fingers.

His love was no longer unrequited either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys check it out im capable of writing happy endings to chapters too
> 
> next chap is the final, but i can't not include an epilogue after all the #angst. hang out with me on tumblr where all i seem to do is talk about these here old mens.
> 
> and i’ve gotta bring up [all the super cool fanart](http://ludella.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart) people have drawn u dont know how emotional u all make me.
> 
> next chapter is who knows when, fuck. but knowing myself it wont be too long, im too excited to get it out. and good luck to everyone back in school, i know i’m stuck in it.  
> 


	18. Month 10 - Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A LOT I WANT TO SAY I'm so happy to finally be finishing this fic, you have no idea how much fun it's been to write and interact with everybody. This chapter is so self indulgent, which, honestly, I feel is long overdue after the amount of angst this fic included.
> 
> im sorry to everyone who's commented this fic stressed them out ever. take a deep breath. we're gonna win.
> 
> on another note, this is the first time I've finished a fic of this size and detail before. It was my first time planning something out ahead of time, outlining chapters, and actually putting my all into something. I'm super satisfied with it, you have no idea how much fun I've had doing this.
> 
> remember, there'll be an epilogue!

There was a garden outside the hospital. The wings of the building curved in a ‘C’ shape, almost enclosing the area entirely save for the exit that led to a small gathering space and then a parking lot. It was usually filled with either elderly who had nothing else to do or children, be it as patients or visitors.

The people who tended to it were typically not any maintenance or janitorial staff as much as the nurses and patients themselves. They would come out together, chatting as an old woman got her necessary walk in for the day and a young boy finally got to burn off his energy. The flowers got watered then, and a few dedicated nurses even got on their knees and weeded out the flowerbeds when necessary.

There was no rhyme or reason behind any of the flowers there. They were planted by whoever for whatever reason, and if one died or was picked, another random pack was put in its place. Perhaps there had been an order to it before, maybe rows of different species, but gradually it became patch after patch of different colors and shapes.

John didn’t know a lot about gardens; his specialty was flowers after they’d been taken out of the ground.

Still, he thought this was one of the better ones. Maybe he was biased.

Today must have been some kind of event within the hospital or a holiday, given the entire place was empty save for himself. While John wouldn’t have minded the company of watching other people enjoy themselves, it was nice to have this time to think to himself in an open space. He had his own room, of course, but it was different with the flowers.

The hospital staff could hardly believe the story until all the evidence was presented. Nothing like it had ever occurred, and Barry and Lup even came in to give their say and check on John personally.

He was just lucky they were able to keep it out of the media, more for their sakes than his own. John leaned back against the bench he was sitting in and relaxed against the wood there.

It was a nice afternoon.

It had taken almost a week before John got the clearance to come out here. Somehow, flirting with the edge of death multiple times didn’t do so well for his, well, _anything_ , really. There had been a lot of recovery he had to make up for, and he was lucky his respiratory system was still in tact.

The damage done was permanent.

Again, nothing like it had ever occurred. He lifted his hand to cough into his fist.

John then held out his hand above the flowers beside the bench, allowing the petals to fall from his fingers before folding back in his lap.

Chances were he would never fully recover. John couldn’t follow what was said entirely, but there was some issue with the new strain of hanahaki that didn’t take too kindly to being both recast and resolved so quickly together. By all means, he should have died, and it was practically a miracle he survived.

The curse refused to dissipate completely, however. As it was now, it was unclear whether or not he would continue to expel petals (never entire flowers, yet) for a short period of time, or the rest of his life. From what a team of medical professionals and the Lup-Barry duo concluded, though, it would be nonlethal either way. He had shown no other signs of development that a regular hanahaki victim would experience within a week. He would live, and that’s all he needed, at this point.

John allowed himself to recover peacefully and slowly, refusing to accept visitors if they should ever come. He kept his phone off. He did what the doctors told him to, and focused on himself.

It was the first time he’d come to the garden in person, having just watched it from the window of his room instead. Now with the clear from nurses, he breathed in the fresh air deep into his lungs.

Down there, deep in his chest, were flowers. He knew it, had become use to the feeling of something existing within him. He exhaled, and they didn’t bother him. When he thought of his emotions, his love, they wouldn’t necessarily come up. They were entirely unpredictable.

Perhaps it was best that way.

John listened as the door from the front of the hospital opened, not bothering to look up as somebody else entered into his space.

They walked right up to the bench he was on, despite all the other open seats, and settled right beside him.

“You look like trash.”

John smiled and lifted a brow. “You’re no picture of perfect health yourself.”

Merle hummed in agreement. “Guess not.”

“When did you break out?”

“Few days ago--I was right as rain in no time, thanks to an anonymous donation.”

“I’m glad to hear it, your employees were in a fit over you for quite some time.”

The sun was still high in the sky, though due to the change in seasons, it was getting a bit cooler out. It was a wonder these flowers were even still alive--no doubt they would wither soon after John left the hospital. That hardly mattered, as they only “existed” for the time he was here.

All that mattered was what he could experience while he was here.

He had to enjoy what he did have.

With the feeling of something rising in his throat, John ducked his head to the other side and coughed into his hand once again. Although he was becoming used to the sensation, it didn’t make it any less unpleasant. Half the reason he was still in the hospital was trying to find a way to protect his throat from being torn apart.

John lowered his hand to throw the petals out, but was stopped by Merle touching his elbow. When he looked back at him, Merle glanced down at his fist then back up at John’s face.

Slowly, John held his hand out in the space between them and uncurled his fingers to show the red rose petals laying crushed in his palm.

“It’s frequent, and may be permanent,” he said. “But it isn’t fatal.”

Merle nodded, keeping his eye trained on the petals in his hand. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“It probably always will.”

Connecting the two tales John knew, one from his own experience and one he only heard, was difficult. In his head, he knew what Merle had been through. He was told in detail by others about when his symptoms had appeared, how he was doing in the hospital, and what all happened to him when John was not present. But it was difficult reconciling that knowledge with his own experience.

They’d both been through a lot, more than most people would ever go through in a relationship, and they hadn’t even said a word of it.

He needed to hear it from Merle directly.

He needed to know.

John opened his mouth to speak, silent for a few moments before he could finally manage the words. “Tell me about it.”

For a while, Merle was silent. He leaned back in his seat with a slow exhale and watched gardens across from them. John took the opportunity to scatter his petals over the side of the bench.

“It started pretty early--you wouldn't have known. But hanahaki came in when you started acting up.”

John nodded him along. It fit the timeline he'd devised in his head.

Merle kept going. “I tried to tell you, with the flowers, but I guess it freaked you out.”

“There were… other circumstances at work.”

“No shit,” Merle laughed, and it made John smile. This was probably the only person who could make talking about their mutual near-deaths and unintentional harm towards each other… easy. John had been worried about the confrontation, honestly, but now he felt foolish for ever doubting Merle. At his core, the man was simple. “It hurt a lot, I won’t lie. When you were gone, it was the worst--I couldn’t understand what you were doing or why. I was worried, John.”

John took a deep breath. Even if it was easier than expected, perhaps it wasn’t as harmless as he thought it would be speaking about their past. “I… am sorry, Merle. It--”

Merle held up his hand to cut him off. “We can talk about it later, but I have something else I want to ask.”

“That is?” John asked.

“Why did you think it was unrequited?”

He blinked slowly.

That was a question, wasn’t it? _The_ question?

Only then did John realize he had never once thought on that certain aspect of the curse that had been plaguing his life. It made sense for Merle, who he rejected multiple times, but John’s feelings manifested before he was aware of them.

John had fallen in love and let himself down before he even knew he had feelings.

As he continued thinking on the question, Merle stood from his seat, slowly meandering around the garden across the path. He was still close enough to hear, and he kept his body turned enough to let John know he was openly listening.

“I didn’t know what was happening before it was too late,” John admitted. “But at that point, I already knew you and I were from two different worlds; we’re completely different people.”

It was as if, once he began speaking his feelings out loud for the first time, a dam had broken.

Although tight, John felt his chest beginning to lighten as he continued. “You know my history with friends and relationships in that there is none, so seeing you, who is my opposite in every way--it was discouraging. Although we might interact, it felt as if we would never be on the same terms. It was a fundamental difference, like we were from two different planes of existence.”

“Do you still think that?”

“No.”

He paused.

“Yes, I do,” John corrected himself almost immediately. “I think we are different, incredibly so, but I don’t believe it is as large of a wall as I once thought.”

He watched as Merle knelt down in front of one of the flowerbeds and listened to him hum in consideration. “I never thought anything like that--you always make things so complicated.”

They laughed at the same time, and John felt the knot in his chest begin to unwind at long last. “I wouldn’t be myself otherwise.”

“Yeah, I like it that way.”

The words were so honest, so obvious at this point after everything they had been through, but they caught John off guard all the same. He had heard those three special words a million times through actions and concern and gifts and experience. But never had he heard them said outright.

Merle stood then, and turned to face John once again.

In his hands were two tulips, bright red and freshly picked.

John stared at him in disbelief as the dwarf returned to his seat beside John, the gap between them less than the first time, and handed both flowers over. He’d worked with flowers for months straight, had become very used to dealing with them.

For some reason, they felt different in his hands now.

If flower arrangements were a language, Merle was fluent, and John had forced himself to go deaf. Now, suddenly, he could hear again.

A small smile came to his face, and he shook his head in feigned exasperation. “Someone planted these, you know. You can’t just pick them.”

“I’m old, we’ll just tell them I’ve lost a few marbles.” He said it so seriously John couldn’t laugh. The stems of the flowers spun between his fingers as John rolled them around absentmindedly. He couldn’t force down the smile on his face if he tried, and with each passing second just staring at the tulips made it that much stronger.

He felt younger than ever, fully aware of the heart beating in his chest as if for the first time.

John turned to look at Merle only to find the dwarf watching him intently, smile so soft and genuine he felt his ribcage might burst.

He’d seen the same expression before--many times in their history together. Only now did he understand both the meaning behind it and the sentiment.

“I missed you.” The words came out of John’s mouth before he could stop them, although he wouldn’t have in the first place. They seemed to catch Merle by surprise if the raising of his brows was anything to go off of, and then his expression softened again.

“Yeah,” Merle said quietly, scooting over enough to sit so they’re legs are pressed together, “I did too, John.”

John hadn’t seen Merle in months.

The last time they had been together, both genuinely and honestly themselves, had been the day of the race. It was now nearly four months since that day, and even that one event was the first they’d been together after a long period of avoiding the dwarf.

Suddenly, the fact they were sitting so close together now, after so long of being apart yet still revolving around the other, was surreal. John lifted his empty hand to cover his eyes and sighed--Merle laid a hand over John’s knee comfortingly. “I’ve… really missed you, I think. More than I thought.”

Merle was the first friend he’d ever made.

His best friend.

All romantic feelings aside, he had provided John with so much happiness and enriched his life that the fact they spent so long apart seemed horrid now. Perhaps that was why he’d acted the way he did, made the decisions he had; he tried acting alone.

“John.”

He looked back over at Merle, and felt his hand squeeze over his knee.

It was one of Merle’s rare serious expressions. “You’re not alone anymore--I won’t let you be.” He let the words sink in for a moment, then finally reached over with the hand on John’s leg to fold it firmly over the one holding flowers. “Let’s do this together,” Merle said quietly, resolutely. “From here on, don’t block me out. Let me in--let’s be a team, John.”

The hand over his was warm and firm, unrelenting.

John could remember the feeling on his arm, guiding him through their friends, or in a firm clap on the back. This time, it lingered.

Fifty years John had been alone. Through whatever life tossed at him, any issues or struggles he faced, it had always been by himself. He never once minded--he never knew anything else. One can’t mourn the loss of something they’ve never had.

Now, John has tasted it. He’s had friends, he’s been in love, and god, how could one give it up? How _had_ he chosen to give it up? Everything in their histories led them here, to this moment, and he could no longer regret what he had done.

But he could move forward.

By god, John could _move forward_.

He lowered his other hand back into his lap and slowly transferred one of the tulips in his grasp over to Merle’s hand on top of his.

“Okay.”

John watched as Merle’s expression changed, lips curling up into a wide grin that he couldn’t help but mimic before Merle let out a loud laugh. Merle leaned into him, and John ducked his head as he snickered as well until they were simply pressed against each other.

John could hardly imagine what they looked like, two old men, hunched over laughing in the middle of a garden outside a hospital, holding flowers.

When John was able to contain himself and pull back, he looked Merle up and down as he noticed something off for the first time. “You’re wearing a button-down--with the buttons actually down, and no horrid palm tree print,” he noted aloud, holding the edge of the solid shirt Merle was wearing between his thumb and index finger.

Merle threw his head back with another loud guffaw. “ _Now_ you notice? I finally come dressed my own damn age, and look at _you_.”

John glanced down at his own tee shirt and sweatpants (the only of each he owned), brows furrowing in spite of the smile on his face. “I’m in the hospital, you bastard--I’ll wear what I so damn please.”

“Hold on…” He watched Merle turn and dig around in his pocket--of his nice slacks, and the observation made John nearly start laughing all over again. Merle retrieved his phone and flipped it around in his hand, opening the camera and holding it out in front of them. “Lean in, you’re barely in the frame--”

“Give me that, your arm’s too short.”

Merle scoffed but handed the phone over anyways for John to hold in front of them. “What kind of--tilt it down, stupid, you never taken a selfie?”

John rolled his eyes. “A what?”

With careful instruction from Merle, they managed to take the picture, and the dwarf chuckled to himself the entire time while he sent it out to the rest of his friends--their friends. John had to hope that with Merle’s okay the others would accept him again, though some explanation may be needed.

He decided he could worry about it later when Merle finally tucked the phone back in his pocket and leaned right back into his side as if they’d never separated. It was a warm feeling he hoped to never become too familiar with, for fear the pleasant stirring it caused in his chest might disappear.

There was no telling how long they stayed out in that hospital garden together. The only indication John had that it wasn’t too horribly long was that there was still light in the sky. The two rested together and talked about everything that filled their last few months besides the unspeakable obvious. John informed Merle on his new interests, though as he described them, John found himself changing his opinions towards the human ‘emotion’ and experience of living he had ridiculed just a month ago.

Merle listened intently, provided his own input, and when he was finished, caught John up on everybody else at the shop. He told him about Julia’s pregnancy, the booming success of Taako’s restaurant, and the achievements of his own kids now that they were back in school. Surprising himself, John actually found he was interested in every word Merle had to say.

It was the first personal conversation John had in months with no intention behind, mindless chatter for the sake of listening to the other and enjoying someone else’s company. He never knew he missed it until now, like many other things he was rediscovering on this one day alone.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Merle asked after updating him on the reopening of the shop to come next week.

Staring down at the flower in his hand, John nodded absentmindedly. “It’s only right that I would.”

“Think you owe me a few weeks without pay to make up for the emotional trauma.”

John elbowed his side and received another snicker. It caused Merle to hit him right back, and as John tried to push him out of the way, he turned and ended up staring right back at each other in comfortable silence.

This was what John had been missing out on.

This was what he stole from himself for so long.

He was the first to lean in, and Merle’s hand on his sleeve tugged John down so they could meet in the middle.

At the press of Merle’s lips against his, John felt his heart flutter, and panic rose just for a moment before he remembered he was allowed to feel this. There were no longer any consequences for being emotional, no risk of falling back and keeling over at any given moment.

So he indulged in it, lifting his hands to pull Merle in closer by the back of his neck. He could feel the dwarf’s lips rise in a smile against his, and felt himself smiling as well.

John was cured, now.

He could consider Merle, what he meant to him, their relationship and where it might go without feeling fear for his life. He could finally look back on their time together, every small conversation, every lesson, every party and walk they took home over the course of months, and he could hold those memories close to him now.

He could write novels in his head about what this moment meant.

Instead, John did something new for the first time; he didn’t think.

Funny how it worked.

When Merle pulled away, they both kept their hands where they were on each other, and shared a smile that turned into a laugh.

This was it, he thought as they eventually gathered themselves and made their way inside and into John’s hospital room. Even though ‘this’ had just begun, though ‘this’ was new and unfamiliar, John had known from the very beginning; this was it for the rest of his life.

Merle stayed a few hours longer, sitting in a chair by John’s bed and keeping him company as nurses and doctors came by. He filled the time with stories of his children and how he met everybody from the very beginning. There were a few times John had to hold up his hand and stop Merle, ducking to the other side as he hacked up a few petals and threw them into a bin by his bed. During those moments, Merle reached over and put his hand over John’s thigh, firm and present. A reminder that the worst was over.

He eventually had to bid Merle good night as the dwarf’s children were over for the weekend and he had to be home to take care of them. Merle didn’t leave without the promise he would return the next day, however, even clambering up on top of the chair he was in to press a kiss to John’s cheek that made his face flush.

John wasn’t able to sleep for awhile that night. His head was full of touch and sensation, as well as the sudden desire he had to never be without them. He tossed back and forth, trying to repress a grin towards the empty room and wondering when the last time was that he had felt this young.

* * *

“How is it even possible for things to get like this?” John said, holding up a number of papers stacked in a messy pile. There was no dates indicating when they were taken, no names of the employee who wrote them, and he was thankful there was even enough information to make the orders themselves. Still, he would have to organize them from the ground up, as well as every other already filled order that had occurred over the past few months. “Have you never thought of investing in a filing cabinet?”

Leaning against the counter on his stool, Merle shrugged. “We’ve got counters with drawers, why would we need one?”

“To organize these?

Merle waved his hand dismissively and John visibly recoiled in disgust. It was amazing the place had functioned without him, really. He could hardly imagine how they’d stayed open years before with all their files and documents just strewn about wherever. And the _cleaning_ , oh god, he didn’t even know where to start with this place. Killian had been kind enough to bring in a few shipments before they reopened to get things going, but she had simply taken the dead flowers and put them _on the ground_.

There was a little more than a lot of work to be done.

Thankfully, Julia and Sloane would be coming in later today to help out, and they likely wouldn’t open for another few hours anyways. John and Merle had time to get whatever they could done in the meantime.

“It’s enough I came in and cleaned up the dead flowers last night, isn’t it?” Merle said, more watching John try and organize papers than actually helping.

The fact he wasn’t doing anything didn’t go unnoticed, and John scoffed. “You’ve done the bare minimum, Merle; that hardly deserves praise.”

Immediately after speaking, John set the folder in his hands down and turned away to cough into his elbow, gathering the petals in his hands after and throwing them in a bin below the counter. It was becoming less frequent than at first, but still ever present in his day-to-day. The flower never changed, either--it was always bright red rose petals, as horribly cliche as it was.

At his side, Merle watched him with a sympathetic smile, and John shrugged to show he was fine.

It was simply a consequence of the poor decisions he made in the past that hurt the both of them. He could live with it for the sake of the present they had now.

“Oh, John,” Merle suddenly spoke up, standing straighter, “I promised a regular she could come in early and pick up something I made last night, could you go to the back and pick it up?”

“We haven’t even been open again for a day and you’re already giving people favors,” John shook his head with a fond chuckle. Of course Merle would come in a day early for one person. That was entirely like him. John pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the work room. “Don’t think about touching those papers.”

“I won’t!”

In the week following the first day Merle visited John, a lot of nothing had happened. They kept busy, with Merle visiting practically every day and texting him constantly when he couldn’t. They celebrated his eventual release with a bottle of wine in John’s home, too tired and physically incapable of doing much else. A good amount of the food in John’s place had gone bad, given he hadn’t been there since before turning to Lup and Barry for help, and caused him and Merle to take a late night trip to the grocery to fill his pantry again.

It was small things, little events that would not mean much to other people. Things like Merle suggesting they walk the long way instead, or bringing John a handkerchief to use for his lingering cough.

John could see their future, as odd as it was, built on the small things. Picking up tiny tidbits and habits the other had and adapting to them, like how Merle preferred to stand on the sidewalk while John walked in the road below the curb so it was easier to hold hands. They didn’t rush, never got beyond a few kisses per night, and the pace was enough to keep John satiated without being overwhelmed.

He could live like this, John thought. Attentive as he was, John found it easier than others to pick up on all of Merle’s small tendencies and mannerisms. Even without any large declarations, they knew how the other felt in the little things alone.

John lifted the clouded plastic curtains and stopped where he stood between the rooms.

And then he let out a loud laugh, because the room was covered in bright, colorful flowers.

Entire arrangements, fully made and decorated, filled up not only the workbench but the floors and shelves as well. It was like an entire garden had been planted on every surface of the room, grown by Pan himself. Every flower he had ever encountered in the shop was picked out in some arrangement--camellias, peonies, carnations, scabiosa, chrysanthemums, bouvardia, roses, lilies, everything in every color.

It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed the sheer amount of colors alone from the outside, but perhaps a dwarf had distracted him.

There was only a small enough space in front of the entrance for him to walk up to the counter where one bouquet of tulips and roses was given more space than the rest. John couldn’t fight down the smile on his face as he approached it and reached for the small card stuffed between a cluster of tulips.

_‘For John.’_

He let out another laugh and turned just as he heard the curtains shifting to find Merle entering the room with a pleased smile on his face. “This is… a waste of product,” John said after a beat of silence, and watched as Merle’s grin only widened.

“I figured I should return the favor.”

That was right, the one thing they had refused to talk about. On that day, John had gathered what flowers he could find in Bougainvillea, ripped them from finished arrangements, and left it for someone else to find with his own unconscious form. All he’d heard was how Julia nearly went into premature labor in her panic calling an ambulance.

He could see her in his head, riding in the back of the vehicle with the messy vase of flowers on her lap as paramedics took care of John.

He would have to thank her and apologize. The same went for Lup and Barry who had been called into the hospital as soon as he was able to speak--Taako as well, whose apology and thanks were long overdue. It might as well be John’s first task now that he was back at the store, and they were not confrontations he was looking forward to.

His relationship with Merle had been mended, though they would continue working with each other to make up for everything that had been done. But now he would have to regain the trust and bonds he’d severed beforehand.

A hand was folded over his, and John was torn from his thoughts as he looked down at Merle. The dwarf’s face was open and kind, tightening his hand over John’s until their fingers were intertwined.

“Don’t worry--we’re going to do this together, John.”

Just because he was no longer cursed did not mean all of John’s problems had been solved, and because he and Merle were finally together did not mean his life was perfect. There was still much that he as an individual would have to work through and figure out himself. An entire lifetime’s worth of issues would still need to be confronted, especially now that he had other people in his life.

But this wasn’t about looking for a cure for all of his problem.

It was a promise that he would never have to do it alone.

John smiled, squeezing Merle’s fingers between his own.

“I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's read this far. Like I said, this is the first time I've taken on a project this large, and it's meant the world to me that it's gotten all the attention it has. Like, what the hell, this is two old dudes from a DnD campaign, yall are reading this? I spent months writing this? thank you to everyone who's left comments and made my day, they mean absolutely everything to me, as well as everyone who's sent me asks on tumblr, or IMd me to talk!
> 
> and holy shit, the people who've made [fanart ](http://ludella.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart)for this? I used to say I would feel satisfied with my writing when someone was inspired enough by it to make art based off of it, and [I've](https://what-it-means-to-be-human.tumblr.com/post/163758063572/inspired-by-the-fic-written-by-the-super) [gotten](https://bookoartdrew.tumblr.com/post/164488773096/ive-been-thinking-about-this-fic-by-ludella-for) [very](http://turnipmage.tumblr.com/post/164146862965/this-is-a-chapter-late-but-made-so-much-worse-by) [emotional ](http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com/post/164000881925/hey-hey-ludellas-johnmerle-fic-zone-of-trulips)over these.
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this journey of old man love! I really did expect this to get like 500 hits max. It would've ended a lot sooner if it did. I've already got another fic planned for after this, and a really long epilogue is on its way because sorry, I need to write more of them being happy in this verse.
> 
> Come hang out with me on my tumblr, [ludella](ludella.tumblr.com), and talk with me about these two or hang around for other fic of them. Or just come talk with me in general. If you leave comments and kudos and I'll probably cry.
> 
> Finally, I have to confess; I've never known a fucking thing about flowers, BYE


	19. Month ? - Calendar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said most of what i wanted to say in the last chapter. so now that we've made it here, enjoy!!! this is ENTIRELY self indulgent and just kept getting longer and longer and longer...
> 
> also hey there's sexual content in this, what? actual old men fucking.

**Month 11**

“Merle,” John begins, holding back the curtains as he peeks his head inside, “I already closed the register for the night, are you still working?”

The dwarf straightens his back from where he’d been hunched over and casts a glance towards John over his shoulder. “Yeah, seems like it’s gonna be a long night--I didn’t get time to finish the centerpieces for a wedding tomorrow.” He returns to his work and lifts his hand in a casual wave. “Go on home, I’ll see you tomorrow, John.”

Though Merle can’t see it, John nods and begins putting away the last of what he’d been reading to put on the shelf for tomorrow. The two of them will be back bright and early next morning to continue where they left off until the others come in and relieve them. Just as he’s about to remove his apron, John glances back towards the workroom where Merle is working tirelessly by himself. There’s no telling how long it’ll take him to finish a number of centerpieces, and there won’t be time to work on it tomorrow morning before they’re picked up…

He sighs, retying the apron as he flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and returns to Merle’s side. “How many are left?” he asks despite the surprised look he gets from Merle, and tries to pretend he doesn’t see the dwarf’s face morph into a too-fond smile that makes his stomach flip. 

“Three more of these small ones, four of the taller ones over there.”

“That many?”

“Two for every table, she said.”

John tuts as he begins picking flowers from the center of the table and working on his own piece. “It’s hardly a centerpiece if there’s two.”

“I told her that,” Merle says, “but she wouldn’t hear it!”

With two people, the work doesn’t take as long as John expects. After all this time, Merle still works faster than him, helped by the fact that John hasn’t been here in quite a while. He’s slowly getting back into the swing of things the more he comes in and occupies himself with any number of tasks.

He missed the shop, really, though he hadn’t the emotions necessary to register it. It’s a good kind of busy that not only keeps him from being distracted in his own thoughts, but forces him to engage with a number of people. And those people have only continued to enrich his life ever since.

John stumbles as Merle bumps into him purposefully, looking down to find the other staring up at him in amusement. “Thanks for stayin’ back; I appreciate it.”

He smiles, plugging the last peony into its place in the bouquet before him.

“It’s no problem.”

* * *

 

**Month 12**

Although it isn’t the first time he’s been to Taako’s restaurant, it feels like it, after everything that’s happened. John takes in all the decor, the guests, the servers, everything with a new eye, much more appreciative now that he is back on better terms with the man who made everything happen.

He and Taako met back up just last week at Magnus’s monthly barbecue. It was awkward at first, to say the least, but eventually John opened enough to thank Taako for helping him back when the curse was relevant. It broke the dam that had been building in the elf’s mind, John thought, as he immediately launched into a spiel about how stupid the two of them were to not just talk stuff out if they  _ both _ were inflicted. He would sprinkle in small details that alluded to some emotion similar to ‘regret’ that John took as an apology.

Across the table, Merle tugs at his tie with a grimace for the umpteenth time that evening--and they haven’t even ordered their food. “Regretting the decision to go on a date already, Merle?” John asks, smirking as he reads over the menu. 

The suit John wears is one of his favorites, well fit and a simple grey that isn’t overwhelming or offensive to look at. If there’s one thing he enjoys most about Del Taako, it’s that the environment suits him entirely which is, oddly enough, not something he ever expected from the eccentric elf. Albeit it isn’t like every other five star restaurant he’s been to for formal events, and there’s small oddities here and there that keep him from forgetting who owns the place.

Even if it isn’t the most formal place he’s been to, John has a feeling it is to Merle who continues to fidget in his chair. “No, because even though I’m in  _ hell _ , you look like you’re having an inordinate amount of fun. Kinda scary.”

John’s smile only widens and he has to fight down a laugh. “It gives me great pleasure to finally see you out of your element.”

“Sadistic bastard.”

In his defense, it was Merle’s idea to come out. They’ve been seeing each other for nearly two months without really talking about it, thus Merle decided it would be best to go on an actual date. It helps that they can get a discount from Taako and not have to worry about the high prices that come with fine dining, and yet Merle still looks horribly nervous.

It’s fun in a way John never expected, especially because it feels like for the majority of their friendship John has been the more ‘vulnerable’ one. Now John picks out their wine, converses with the server naturally, and lifts his glass once they’re poured for Merle to toast. The dwarf does so begrudgingly.

“To us,” John says, smug and far too satisfied with himself.

Merle shakes his head in exasperation and gives a tired smile that John can tell is more endeared than anything. “To us.”

Although it isn’t his environment, Merle keeps his complaining down to a minimum after that, and they’re able to enjoy their dinner in peace. He makes John laugh no small amount of times, and for a formal restaurant, it might be the most informal dinner John’s ever had. But that makes it different, distinguishable.

When Merle walks John home afterwards, he tugs the human down for a kiss that John doesn’t allow to stay chaste despite being a ‘first date.’

* * *

 

**Month 13**

He knows something is up as soon as Merle starts trying to keep secrets from him. Stuff like telling him not to look here or there, hiding his phone whenever John approaches, and shushing conversations with the other employees when he enters the room. Really, he isn’t so subtle at all, but John doesn’t say anything, trusting the dwarf not to mess up too horribly. Even if he can’t possibly imagine what he could be hiding from him.

When Merle invites him over after not hanging out outside of work for a week, John knows everything is coming to a head and mentally prepares himself for whatever awaits him. He isn’t worried, per se, and knows if it’s something serious Merle would’ve contacted him sooner to talk about it.

Which means whatever this is, it’s going to be stupid.

He knocks on the door of Merle’s house almost reluctantly, knowing he isn’t ready for what’s inside.

The door swings open, and sure enough, there Merle is--surrounded by all of their other friends as well. The house is full of the shop’s employees and the rest of their friends and family who immediately turn and cheer when they see John.

“Happy Birthday, John!”

Stunned, he stands in the doorway, completely at a loss for words. Merle laughs, pulling him inside as John lifts his phone to look at the date. “I… completely forgot.”

“ _ Forgot _ !” Merle barks and shakes his head in disappointment. “You can’t forget your own birthday, John! C’mon, we’re celebrating today!”

Celebrating? He allows himself to be pulled along as their friends come up and greet him, wishing him well. John can’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday or even looked forward to it. At most he would have a nicer dinner than usual if he noticed the day had come by, or wear his favorite tie to work. Nobody in the office ever knew, either, so it always passed without occassion.

This, happening now, though? It’s enough to make up for every few dozen birthdays he let go by without any ceremony. Even though Merle stays by his side, just like every barbecue and party, John is the one who leads them around, mingling and talking with others on his own accord.

He’s never really looked upon his age as a positive or negative thing, really. But today makes him realize just how long he’s lived to go without such a kind, warm environment to fold himself into. Once things settled, everyone finds a place to sit and exchange loud stories and conversation around the entire room until it’s late enough for everyone to head out. A few people, mainly Julia, Sloane, and Barry come forward with small gifts and  _ god _ if that doesn’t send John for a loop all on its own.

He stays longer than the rest, helping Merle clean up the house and straighten everything up. The evening ends with the two of them curled up on the couch, watching some shitty reality television show. John keeps his arm behind Merle’s shoulders and the dwarf leans into him, warm and comfortable in a dangerous way that threatens to put John to sleep if he isn’t careful. 

“Thank you for… today, Merle,” he says during a commercial, not bothering to move an inch so he can see the other’s face. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in decades, it was… nice.”

“Oh, you’re not done yet, babe.” The nickname makes John’s stomach flip before he cringes. He watches as Merle finally breaks contact and leans away, just enough to reach below the couch and fiddle with something.

“Today of all days you should be aware I’m too old to get called ‘babe,’” John jokes. 

Merle ‘tsks’ in dismay. “Hush up, or it’ll just get worse from here,  _ sweetheart _ .” He immediately winces and Merle laughs at him, setting whatever he picked up to the other side where John can’t see. He then lifts a hand to curl his fingers below John’s chin, grinning at him lasciviously. “You’re the perfect age, just ripe for lovin’, darling.”

John can’t stop his hand from clamping over Merle’s wrist and forcibly lowering his hand away from his face. “Okay, not that, thank you, point taken.” Merle lets out another loud laugh and shakes his head, turning to retrieve what he had picked up. “What is that?”

“Your gift.”

He’s honestly surprised it isn’t just more flowers, but says nothing as the parcel is set on his lap to unwrap. It’s a book, quite obviously, and John chuckles when he finally sees the cover; a book about flower language. Merle has yet to let him live that down. Still, he can see something in between a few of the pages and opens it up to where there’s two other objects.

First, John smiles fondly at the bookmark with pressed, red tulip petals, looking down the page he’d opened to conveniently all about the same flower. ‘Perfect love,’ ‘true love,’ the passage describes, and it’s so cheesy and absolutely horrible it’s almost enough to give John heartburn. But there’s meaning behind it, for the two of them. A long line of history that’s extended into including tulips everywhere for each other when given the chance. It’s the flower that brought them together in a number of confessions, after all.

The second is a small envelope, hardly a quarter of the size of a regular letter, and he opens it without a thought. John turns it over for the object inside to fall in the palm of his hand--and a key tumbles out.

He stalls and turns to look at Merle in confusion.

“It’s for the front door,” the dwarf says, explanation prepared beforehand. “I want you to be able to come in and out whenever you want--make it easier, you know?”

It’s a large gift, as small as the object itself is.

Sure, John and Merle are often over at his house together more than anywhere else. It’s better than going to John’s boring place or staying at the shop, so they’ll often return here after work to hang out. It’s become something of a routine to just go back together, curl up on Merle’s couch eating dinner, and then John will go home later that night.

This is a bit more than that. Even if John is over all the time anyways, it’s the symbol of Merle saying he wants John to feel at home, more than anything. He’s free to come and go as he pleases, it gives him some slight ownership of the place--and it draws them even closer together.

John curls his fingers into a fist, holding the key tightly, and smiles down at Merle. “Thank you,  _ babe _ .”

Merle chuckles just as he reaches up to grab John by the collar, already pulling him down. “Sounds way better comin’ from you,  _ love _ .”

John grins against Merle’s mouth, speaking against his lips. “I can work with that one.”

* * *

 

**Month 14**

John sighs as the last box is loaded into the back of the Merle’s truck, brushing his hands off as he walks up to the passenger’s side. “This all?” Merle asks as he climbs inside, and John nods.

“Yeah--Sloane helped me get most of it out of the way by donating the rest.” To be honest, half the boxes he has in the bed of the truck are just books. Books, his wardrobe, some dishes, and a few other things Merle had picked out himself. John’s always been a simple man, he doesn’t need much else. He watches his old house disappear in the side mirrors with an odd fondness.

He’s never been attached to his home besides it being the designated place for him to return to. There was no significance to its location, its size, or the majority of the furniture he’d filled it with. It had just been that--a place to live in. And for the decades where all John  _ did _ was live, it served its purpose well.

Merle keeps the short drive interesting with talk of some story Davenport told him last weekend, but John remains slightly anxious. A lot has happened in the past year, but this is one of the biggest changes he’s made yet. Getting a new job had been a big one, deciding to stay with Merle was another. But, in regards to his regular way of life and routine, this might be the largest change. There’s no turning back, but John doesn’t want to.

This is it, he thinks, more watching Merle talk than he is listening to him. It’s real, now. Real, here, and perfect.

He stifles another cough, full of petals he simply disposes out the window before they reach Merle’s house.

“Alright!” Merle announces once the car is parked in the driveway. John goes to undo his seatbelt and leave, stopping when he notices Merle is sitting still beside him with a serious look. “You ready?”

He’s already come this far. John nods, because there’s no reason to doubt it now. This is what he wants, and though it’s a process, he’s slowly learning to accept it’s alright to want. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s get all this unpacked?”

They leave the car together and round to the back and stack as many boxes in their arms as they can manage. It’ll take a couple of trips, and John kind of wishes they enlisted Killian for help, but Merle insisted on it being just the two of them. Be it some old tradition or if he wants this to be a bonding experience, he doesn’t ask.

Merle fumbles with the door for a good few seconds, balancing boxes on his hip in one arm before it finally swings open. He steps inside, and as John moves to follow him--the door is slammed shut in his face.

“Merle?”

When the door opens back up a second later, Merle’s set the boxes down and grins up and John with wide, open arms. “Welcome home, John!”

He can’t stop himself from smiling, and he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Move before I drop these boxes on your head.” The threat is harmless, of course, and Merle laughs. They both know he’s simply flustered.

They’re able to get the majority unpacked with little issue besides unloading all the books before putting up the bookshelf. By the time evening comes, only a few boxes remain in the living room to be sorted through later while they discuss some gossip concerning Carey and Killian’s future engagement over leftovers. John’s visited Merle’s house plenty of times the past few months, so it’s nothing new to stay over and eat dinner so casually. What’s different now is the fact he won’t be leaving after they’ve cleaned up. The thought makes his heart race until he can forcibly will it back to normal.

Later that night, once they’ve done all they can for the day, Merle’s mouth is eager and pliant against his own. Each swipe of John’s tongue is met with an equal and opposite movement from Merle as he presses their bodies even closer together. The motions are the same, no different from any other time they’ve made out, but the place is different--it’s their home. And this is  _ their _ bed.

In between their lips sliding together, Merle voices similar thoughts. “Can’t believe I get this,” he says, pausing as John takes his mouth again. “Don’t gotta go visit you or meet somewhere else-- I’ve got you right here.”

John hums in agreement. Of course they’re thinking the same things. Of course Merle always has a hold on what’s occurring in John’s mind at every moment. But right now, he doesn’t want to think--it doesn’t take much effort to push Merle onto his back by his shoulder and roll on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. He never breaks the kiss, and if the hands that come up to tighten in his hair are any indication, Merle finds the new position just as agreeable.

“Jesus, John,” Merle practically groans when John releases his mouth just to duck down and begin spreading kisses across the bare skin of his neck. His hand remains in John’s hair, nails digging in just enough to show his support. “You’re gonna get me riled up real quick if you don’t slow down--”

“I want this.”

He pulls back, hands planted on either side of Merle’s head as he looms over the dwarf. John swallows down the rest of his nerves and doesn’t break eye contact.

“I want you, Merle.”

They’ve never gone this far before. John’s never been ready, though he’s had the desire multiple times, it never felt like the right time. There’s been a number of occasions where either of them would get too handsy and have to either slow down or stop completely to avoid any awkward arousal popping up.

Now, they’re in their house, in their bed, for the first night after moving in together. It’s more than the right time--it’s perfect.

He doesn’t expect Merle to reject his advances, but feels relieved all the same when he smiles and reaches up to pull John back down by his neck for another kiss.

They take things slow, because there isn’t any other way John would have it. He has a feeling it would be all the same if it was up to Merle as well. The night is a mixture of culminations and realizations. For one, their relationship has been building up to be able to experience this together, with so few words and relying on each other’s bodies to lead the way. It isn’t the ultimate expression of love others describe--John figures they got that out of the way a long time ago when they nearly died, thank you--but it’s meaningful all the same.

Then there’s the realization they’ve never seen each other naked.

It’s hardly surprising, and John only thinks on it with a small ‘ah’ before returning to the present and throwing their clothes aside. He never thought about it before going into this, and it wouldn’t have mattered if he had expectations before--Merle’s beautiful. He’s always thought so, and tells the dwarf constantly through his flowers. But in this act reliant entirely on their bodies, he shows it with his own.

Yet if John spends the night admiring his partner, Merle spends it  _ worshiping _ John.

He treats John’s body with such care he feels it might  _ hurt _ . Every kiss, every swipe of tongue and rocking of their hips together is done so gently it sends John reeling. While it’s been awhile since he’s had sex in general, never has anyone in his life treated him like he was so precious. He can feel every word Merle’s ever held back, every thought in his head through the gliding of his hands over John’s sides and back.

They pull and push against each other in a slow, steady rhythm, and when they fall apart, it’s with whispers of the other’s name on their lips.

Reality catches back up and seeps in through the warm sweat on their bodies, chilled by the air.

And Merle laughs.

So John does too.

The hardest part is willing themselves to get up and shower, much because Merle complains they can clean up the next day. John won’t hear any of it, though--not in  _ his _ house. The words make Merle smile, and it’s enough to get him up out of bed and following John to the bathroom.

* * *

 

**Month 15**

It’s no surprise that everyone votes for Merle and John to host the next party, given it’s practically a brand new house now that John’s there. They rearranged much of the furniture and somehow, it’s finally becoming clean enough to host other guests. According to Taako, it’ll be the first time Merle has hosted in years.

They still don’t do any of the cooking, given they have a professional chef as a friend for a reason, but they put some time into sprucing up the backyard. Merle’s changed his mind with the direction he wanted to take the area a dozen times, from vegetable garden to flower garden to kid’s yard and back. It ends up taking an entire weekend just to clean it out.

The effort is worth it to see all of their friends gathered in the yard behind their house. They openly gush over how much nicer the place is now that John’s here, and he can’t help but preen himself at the compliments; especially when they tend to pick on Merle as well.

Julia approaches him immediately when she arrives, cradling her new babe in one arm. She holds out her other arm as she gets closer and John resigns himself to giving the woman a hug that she laughs into. “Look at the two of you,” she says after pulling back, grinning wildly, “like a couple of newlyweds.”

“Look at  _ you _ ,” John nods as Magnus comes up behind his wife to wrap an arm around her waist, “like a couple of new parents.”

The ‘p’ word sends the two of them into a flurry of happy giggles as they share a moment, though they quickly return back to John. They’re picture perfect parents, and John is surprised to find he’s genuinely happy for them. Julia is already planning on taking the baby to work with her once she and Magnus have finished their couple months off work, dedicated solely to raising their new child.

"God, remind me not to start a conversation with Merle over text," Julia says in between a lull in conversation, "I've been trying to get him to answer me forever. He's horrible about replying!"

Surprised, John thinks back on it. "I've never had a problem getting him to reply to me."

Magnus laughs and claps him on the back, the force nearly sending John down. "Well duh, he's been trying to get with you since the beginning. He's _horrible_ texting anyone else!"

They speak with him for a little bit longer before drifting off into conversation with the other number of guests present, and John has to take a moment to really soak in the entirety of the scene.

Back when John couldn’t feel as well, couldn’t register the importance of friendship and love, he’d spent all of his time alone. He read most of the time and kept to himself. He didn’t interact with other people. At that time it had been just what he wanted, and he lived happily without speaking or even looking at anyone else.

Thinking back on it, John feels a twinge of disgust for whatever small part of him it is that once craved such things as loneliness. Right now, swimming in such a deep pool of love from so many people, he’s far more content--he’s  _ happy _ . John folds him back into conversation and finds himself keeping up, almost naturally.

Killian and Carey, recently engaged, stay linked by their arms as they talk with Kravitz who, sure enough, has a drink in his hand now that the party isn’t at his place. Lup and Barry are nearby with Taako and Angus as they critique the small portions of food they allowed Barry to try cooking for the first time. They laugh, and Taako pulls Angus close to his side in a firm grip he hasn’t let up on all day.

Just a little bit away, Merle is chatting with Lucretia and Davenport about something he can’t hear from here, probably all the modifications they made to the backyard last week. Sloane and Hurley, after bothering John for a period of time, migrate towards Killian and Carey to challenge them to some game competition. Evidently Sloane is bitter the others got engaged first, and she’s been keeping a ring in her pocket for months waiting for the right moment to spring it on Hurley. John’s already made a bet with Merle over whether or not Hurley will just buy a ring herself and propose first--John’s confident in his elven friend.

He’s surrounded by people he cares about, people who care about him an equal amount.

It’s new.

It’s scary.

But it’s interesting, and John is no longer hungry for that ‘something different’ he searched for his entire life.

More than anything, he’s  _ satiated _ .

“Merle’s old enough to be any of our fathers,” Taako begins, nearly startling John as he suddenly appears at his side, “but you all take slow to a  _ real _ new level. How’d you only  _ just _ move in together?” Behind Taako, Lup comes up to join them and nods along with her brother.

John shrugs, because he doesn’t know what to say. “We’re traditional?”

“Yeah, as traditional as it gets, Mr. Literally-Removes-My-Fucking-Emotions,” Lup laughs, and John joins in with a chuckle. At least it’s something they can joke about now, better than being some awkward topic they have to avoid. He and Lup have also had their own talks about what happened, and she excused him for the majority of it, given everything worked out and she got some ‘pretty sick data’ out of it.

Taako’s just an asshole. “You two got the same bedroom, or do you have to wait a few more months for that?” Lup lets out a loud laugh at that and her brother snickers alongside her as they high five. Their teasing about Merle and John’s relationship has been the worst out of everyone else, as playful and harmless as it is.

“Just one bedroom,” John provides helpfully and pretends to look elsewhere for a minute. The elf watches him with raised brows over the rim of his cup curiously. Then John takes a sip of his own drink, pausing, before he continues. “And that’s where I fuck your dad.”

John barely manages to move out of the way as the soda Taako was drinking is immediately spit out dramatically, and the elves both cover their faces with pained screams that attract the attention of their other guests. Merle makes his way over immediately as Taako keeps complaining loudly with a hand clamped over his eyes, asking what John did to them.

He simply shrugs and says they’re likely overreacting.

* * *

 

**Month 16**

Thankfully, Merle talks to his children before bringing them over to meet John. He said he’s been sprinkling bits about him into their regular conversation, eventually getting the children used to the idea of somebody else living with their father. Hecuba had been the one to need a bit more convincing, and John is lucky he won’t have to deal with her.

This is the long awaited meeting, though, and John isn’t quite sure what to expect. Is it a dealbreaker if the kids of your partner don’t like you? How seriously do you take a meeting with children? They are just kids, how bad could it be? But John isn’t really the friendliest guy on the block or the most experienced with children in general. He likes Julia’s baby, mostly because he’s able to hold it for at least a few seconds before it begins crying.

But these kids aren’t babies. They’re like, almost real people.

He looks up as the door opens and feels anxiety rise up in his veins. “Merle, have you--”

Except the dwarven girl who enters isn’t Merle at all. John’s seen her before, in text messages and in the photos on Merle’s walls and desk. She stops in the door, staring at John blankly.

He realizes that as the adult, he should probably speak first. “Oh, sorry, I thought your father was coming in first.”

“No,” she says while closing the door behind her and taking off her shoes, “he’s helping Mookie burn energy before he comes in and ruins the house.”

“Does he… always have to?”

She nods. “Yeah-- I’m Mavis, by the way.”

John smiles--she suits everything Merle had told him about her. A smart, strong looking girl who appears very much in charge of her own family. More so than Merle, honestly. “It’s nice to meet you, Mavis. I’m John.”

Mavis makes her way over to the living room he’s sitting in and takes a seat on the couch adjacent to his chair. There’s been a number of changes to the house since John moved in, and he watches her take them all in with a curious eye. “Dad’s told us about you, he…” She stops mid-sentence, and John already thinks he’s fucked up. Is he dressed too informally after all? God, it’s like being in a stressful job interview. But worse, because he’s being hired by a child.

After staring at her fingers wringing together in her lap for a minute, Mavis finally lifts her head and looks up at John. 

“Dad said you were really smart…?”

That’s not what he was expecting. It takes him a few seconds to process what she’s asked and manage a response. “Well, to some extent--I’m no scientist like Lup and Barry. Before this I did a lot of office work, accounting and filing systems.” By her face, he can tell this isn’t what she was talking about at all. What did Merle tell the girl about him? John digs deeper for anything he can think of. “I have recently started reading into more philosophy--”

“That!” she pipes up, immediately backing right back down with an embarrassed smile. “I… really like it too, and we don’t go over any real stuff in school so…”

Mavis returns to fiddling with the hem of her shirt shyly. So she’s interested in the same thing, John thinks, and can’t help but smile as well.

She’s a good kid.

He stands up from his seat to walk the few strides over to the bookshelf, pulling one particular book down and offering it to the girl. She takes it cautiously and examines the cover as he speaks. “That’s the first one I read when I started getting into philosophy on my own, before your father and I got together.” John returns to his seat, watching as she gingerly opens the cover of the book to read through the cover page. “You’re welcome to have it, if you’d like.”

That appears to be all it takes to break down the wall between them. Almost instantly, Mavis brightens visibly and thanks him. The silence only lasts for a few minutes while she reads the first few pages of the book and then turns back to him, launching John into a conversation about something or another she’d heard on a similar topic.

Surprisingly, John finds he’s perfectly capable of holding an intelligent conversation with the young girl. While he’s talked with Merle about similar things before, Mavis possesses more of the book-smarts and knowledge on specifics topics and cases to discuss things in theory more than trading personal philosophies. 

He’s immensely impressed, to say the least, and doesn’t even think about the fact he’s technically bonding with Merle’s kids until the dwarf in question returns home with Mookie. Merle stands in the doorway for a good minute before John notices him, and when he does, Merle’s expression is so enamored it makes him flush. Thankfully the girl is too busy talking to realize John is red from head to toe.

Merle makes his way over with Mookie to discuss dinner, sitting beside John and seamlessly grabbing for his hand to hold. It’s a bold move for having just introduced him to the children, but John quickly realizes the two of them don’t seem to mind at all. Mookie immediately hits John with questions about his lingering cough that acts up later that evening, and he does his best to keep up while Mavis berates her brother for ‘asking rude questions.’

The kids start visiting every other weekend, or weeks at a time entirely. John finds himself looking forward to seeing them each time.

* * *

 

**Month 20**

The moment John opens his eyes and sees Merle sitting beside him, he shuts them again and turns away with a whispered curse. Merle immediately says, “Don’t you act like this now, babe. What the hell?”

“It’s nothing,” John insists as he sits up, a little too fast, and though it sends his head spinning he doesn’t back down. He keeps his eyes trained on the wall behind Merle instead of his annoyed face. “I’m fine, has a nurse come by? Let’s just head home--”

“ _ John _ .” Merle’s tone is serious,  _ warning _ , and John knows he can’t talk his way out of this one. Not this time. “Why are you being like this, I don’t get it! And more importantly, why didn’t you  _ call me _ ?”

He sighs, already rubbing his forehead which was already spinning to start. “Because everything’s fine, it’s nothing serious, I was just going to tell you when I got home--”

“Everything isn’t fine!” God, he’s really in it now. John tries to keep his eyes averted from Merle’s, then a hand comes to rest on his knee and he focuses his attention there. Although Merle raised his voice, he takes a moment to breath deeply before continuing, calmer this time. “I got a call from Barry saying you collapsed at work, coughing up flowers like a walking garden. Why do I always have to hear about how you’re doing from other people?”

_ We agreed not to talk about that _ , John wants to say, but stops himself. They never really made any concrete agreement not to discuss the events that brought them together, it’s just been assumed. It’s part of their history. He’s thought about how the story went from Merle’s perspective, thought about how he felt at those times and reacted, but not this particular factor.

John never had told Merle anything during the entire ordeal. Merle either found out by himself or was told by someone else when something was up, mostly about his trips to the hospital. Mostly because John was busy trying to keep a dozen secrets hidden from Merle at a time.

“I didn’t need you to worry over something small,” John explains, speaking slowly and carefully to watch his words. “I was perfectly conscious on the way there, they said it wasn’t serious and I could go home after resting. There was no need to make a big deal out of it.”

“The big deal is that something happened to you, John--let me worry about you, dammit.” The hand on his leg squeezes a bit, and John feels the first wave of guilt roll in. When he finally looks over at Merle, the dwarf has his head in his other hand. “You agreed to let me in;  _ these  _ are the things that matter.”

Maybe he really had fucked up by trying to make the situation better. This whole counting on someone else thing… is still new to him, even this far into their relationship. John’s improved a lot--he can say ‘I love you,’ can ask Merle for help, can open up to him about his feelings. The fact that there’s still more he has to learn is worrisome, to say the least.

Unsure of what else to do, he lays his hand on top of Merle’s. “I’m sorry, Merle, I… thought it was best to just pass it off.” He twines their fingers together until the other lowers his other hand from his face and meets John’s eye. “I’m really fine, though--it was just a whole flower coming up, and Barry wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

It takes a second to work up, but Merle eventually smiles, and John mimics the expression. “That’s good--I don’t think I’ve ever felt as relieved as when I came in here and saw you snoring like nothing ever fucking happened.”

“Nothing did,” John chuckles though Merle shakes his head.

“I thought we were back in the fray. Thought that curse changed its mind on letting us be happy and decided to take you down after all.”

He stays quiet, letting the words sink in.

The circumstances that brought them together a year ago were unconventional at best. They’d skirted the line of death a few times, John more so than Merle, and come out on top just fine. Even though he still has the lingering effects of the curse, John can’t help but agree with Merle in some small way--it feels like they got out too clean. They just barely made it in the first place.

He isn’t sure why the idea of Merle being so vested in their relationship that has been going strong for a year makes John feel so pleased, but it does. Somewhere along the line that hunger for love just morphed into a need for validation which he feels betrays his age.

“Merle,” he says softly, lifting their joined hands off the bed a few inches, “I’ll tell you next time.”

It feels just like the first time when Merle leans over to kiss him.

* * *

 

**Month 23**

John only sits up to turn of the alarm clock with a curt slap before falling back to the bed and resuming his position curled into Merle’s back. Unfortunately, the dwarf has already woken up, and he pats the arms wrapped around his middle. “C’mon, John… gotta get up.”

He simply dips his head farther down to bury his face in the back of Merle’s neck with a sigh. “We’re not doing anything today, go back to sleep.”

“We were gonna get lunch with Lup and Barry.” The moment Merle moves to get up, John’s arms wrap tighter around him, pulling him closer into his chest as Merle laughs. He mutters something John ignores about being like a cat.

“They’ll live.”

From behind his shut eyelids, John can see the smallest bit of morning light already seeping into the room. Being in a hazy state of consciousness makes him all the more aware of how much he doesn’t want to get up, and instead, he relishes in his current position. Merle is warm and soft at his front, and with his head buried in the dwarf’s neck, John is absolutely doused in his homely scent that he’s become incredibly fond of. He breathes it in and sighs leisurely, feeling Merle shiver from the breath sent over his neck.

“So,” Merle says, and John’s tempted to cover his mouth to quiet him, “what do you propose if we just stay home today?”

John grumbles his reply into his back with a nuzzle that betrays his frustration. “It starts with you shutting up and not moving an inch.”

* * *

 

**Month ?**

Merle was the first to suggest a vacation, Magnus and Julia planned it.

John is honestly impressed everyone managed to sync up their schedules to take a group vacation of over a dozen people who aren’t even related by blood. But he’s known them for a while, enough to accept this has definitely happened before. And they’re family anyways.

Evidently, the place they’re staying at is Merle’s old house he used to share with Hecuba and the kids before they both decided on getting new places. It’s not the largest place, but those uncomfortable with the small number of bedrooms either pitch tents or take to a nearby hotel instead. It’s a small house to fit everyone, but somehow it works, and the trip continues without any major conflict.

Some days they go out to eat, sometimes altogether, sometimes in small groups. One night only Merle and Killian wanted to try some trash place out, thus only John and Carey were dragged along to banter about their respective partners. A good amount of time was also spent on the beach itself, mostly watching Merle’s children, and as someone who’s been on no small amount of vacations, John was surprised to discover the beach can actually be fun with the right people. 

Tonight is the last they’ll be here. Tomorrow they’ll all pack up and head back home, comparing pictures to print off and put around not only Bougainvillea, but Del Taako, the laboratory, Magnus’s shop, and the building Lucretia and Davenport worked in. John’s mentally prepared himself for the rowdy drive that he’s ready to endure with not only Merle’s children but also Lup and Barry squeezed in the three-person back seat of Merle’s truck.

But for now, he wanders out on the beach by himself, leaving his shoes at the house and allowing himself to indulge in the soothing feel of sand on his feet. It’s something he never really thought about whenever he took trips to beaches on his vacations before coming to Bougainvillea, but the same could be said about literally anything else in life.

John takes his time walking down the beach with no direction. The walk alone is simply nice in and of itself. It could be an hour or five minutes before he decides on settling down, laying out his jacket on the sand and sitting down to watch the ocean instead.

It’s evening, and the sun has just about almost set, flirting with the top of the horizon.

With his knees brought up, John leans forward and runs his hands over the dry sand. He only sits far enough up that his jacket won’t get wet, but every now and then a wave comes in high enough to touch his toes.

It’s been a good vacation. The others he’s taken have been enjoyable in their own way, more because they were a break from routine, but never has he had as much fun as he is now.

In such a small amount of time, he’s gained so much.

He has friends and family in all the people that are back at the house who will all be glad to see him when he returns home later on. They’re all people who support him, genuinely and honestly caring for his wellbeing. Oddly enough, he cares for them too.

Even Merle’s children, while not his own, have worked their way into his life, and they haven’t left him alone for a single day while they’re here. Mavis stays either at his or Sloane’s side, ever the scholar asking questions about everything. She and Angus get along famously, and Mookie has finally calmed past the initial excitement of meeting a new person to actually warm up to John honestly and truly.

And then there’s Merle.

John expects the fit before it comes this time, and he follows his body to cough between his bent knees and spread the bright rose petals over the sand below him. It’s not as painful as it used to be, but never pleasant.

“Guess that cough’s never gonna go away, huh?”

He doesn’t move but to brush the petals away as Merle sits down beside him. “Suppose not, but I’ve made peace with it. I almost enjoy it, sometimes,” John hums, leaning his chin in his hand.

Merle chuckles. “Enjoy wrecking your throat all the time?”

“No,” John says with a jab of his elbow in Merle’s side, “more than that. It’s like… a constant reminder, of what I used to be. What I almost lost.”

He’d come so close to losing everything so many times. He nearly died, he outright rejected love, John had done almost everything he could  _ to _ fuck it up. Yet somehow they ended up here anyways. Part of him would like to believe that they would’ve always ended up here, but that feels wrong. They’re here because John made it--because he decided to change, decided to go.

Merle nods along beside him thoughtfully and scoots closer so their sides are pressed together and John puts his hand in Merle’s on reflex more than anything. “We’ve both been through a lot,” he agrees, “but what matters is right now, you know? The past is only useful to learn from and use to appreciate the present. It doesn’t actually  _ change _ the present unless you let it.”

They are where they are because John tried to change for the first time.

It took months, he nearly died, and hurt so badly he thought it would never end. Somehow, that pain only makes the present feel sweeter, as now he’s known what it’s like to live without love after being so close to having it.

John averts his eyes back to the horizon where the sun is setting, drinking it in. He focuses on the warmth of Merle’s body pressed to his side. He relishes in the feeling of their hands locked together.

This is precious, he reminds himself. 

Don’t take this for granted.

Don’t forget this.

“You look like you’re trying to burn this into your memory,” Merle says, pulling him out of his reverie. John makes to excuse himself but the dwarf cuts him off by lifting his hand to press his lips against John’s knuckles. “Get too caught up trying to force yourself to remember this moment and you won’t experience it. Just relax--we’ve got an entire future to enjoy.”

An entire future.

This is forever.

Sighing, John wills himself to relax, letting go of Merle’s hand to wrap an arm around him instead as his lover leans his head against John’s shoulder. Tomorrow, they’ll pack up. They’ll leave this place, this memory behind.

But there’s so much more to go, and so much more life to live. Merle’s arm around his waist is firm in an oddly comforting way that feels as if John’s being anchored to the present. He needs it. It’s difficult thinking about his future and having clear enough eyes to be able to actually see something besides uncertainty.

There’s friends, family, and love there, all things he’s never known before but has in abundance now.

“Merle, do you…” John pauses in his own thought to think. A wave comes up and laps at his feet, wetting the ends of his pants. “Do you ever think it’s a waste we didn’t find each other sooner? We’ve lost a lot of time--we’re not young anymore.”

It’s something John thinks about often; how different his life would’ve been if he’d met Merle or any of the others sooner than the exact time he did. If they’d met ten years earlier, twenty, thirty, would his life have been different? Would he have been happier sooner?

Merle answers immediately, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” He pulls away enough to look John in the eye, though his hand remains on the small of John’s back. By now the human can recognize each of Merle’s smiles, and right now, it’s that very special one the dwarf keeps locked away for especially sentimental moments. The smile that makes John feel like he’s twenty again and melting from the inside out. 

It’s as if Merle knows what he does to John--and he probably does.

“I don’t think about things like that, John,” Merle says while his fingers slowly curl in and out on his back soothingly. “Instead of moping on ‘what if’s or how much time we may have lost not meeting sooner… I think about how fortunate it is that you and I met at all in this life. I’m grateful for  _ that _ more than anything.”

John remains silent as the words seep in. To him, it’s always been a matter of how everything could have gone wrong, how things could still go better. He’s a pessimist by nature. But Merle’s always balanced him out that way, and now is no different. “Thank you, Merle… I needed to hear that, I think.”

Merle shakes his head. “No, thank  _ you _ , John--for spending the rest of this life with me.”

John smiles and leans down right as Merle comes in, meeting in the middle for a kiss in a way that’s been perfected over months and months of practice. It feels just as rehearsed as it does natural, like they’re meant to be here, and John thinks they are. It isn’t the works of fate that brought them together; it was their own power and will, and that makes it all the sweeter to enjoy.

Pulling away, Merle grins at him, hand on John’s cheek and foreheads pressed together. The petals from earlier have since been taken in by the ocean and float precariously on top of the water as the setting sun casts the scene in a layer of honey.

But John doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the world as Merle presses a briefer, chaste kiss to his lips once more.

“We’ll come back next year,” Merle says, and John nods against him.

They’ll return to this beach next year, and likely the year after that.

And the one after that.

And so on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much again to everyone who's left kudos, comments, messaged on tumblr, anything. writing this fic has been so much fun and i've gotten to talk with and meet a surprisingly large amount of people because of it? really unexpected, but really glad for it.
> 
> onwards to the next johnchurch fic, i think? yeah, that's where we go from here.
> 
> thank you all for sticking around for the rest of this wild ride!

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out at my tumblr [ludella](ludella.tumblr.com)! i take requests and cry about johnchurch  
> 


End file.
